A History of Solar Power Art and Design 036746568X, 9780367465681

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A History of Solar Power Art and Design

This book examines the history of creative applications of photovoltaic (PV) solar power, including sound art, wearable technology, public art, industrial design, digital media, building integrated design, and many others. The growth in artists and designers incorporating solar power into their work reflects broader social, economic, and political events. As the cost of PV cells has come down, they have become more accessible and have found their way into a growing range of design applications and artistic practices. As climate change continues to transform our environment and becomes a greater public concern, the importance of integrating sustainable energy technologies into our culture grows as well. The book will be of interest to scholars working in art history, design history, design studies, environmental studies, environmental humanities, and sustainable energy design. Alex Nathanson is a multimedia artist, A/V engineer, technologist, and educator whose work is focused on both the experimental and practical applications of sustainable energy technologies. He received a M.S. in Integrated Digital Media from NYU Tandon School of Engineering in 2019. Cover: Björn Schülke, Aerosolar #2 (2010), Courtesy the artist/bitforms gallery

Routledge Advances in Art and Visual Studies

This series is our home for innovative research in the fields of art and visual studies. It includes monographs and targeted edited collections that provide new insights into visual culture and art practice, theory, and research. Art and Merchandise in Keith Haring's Pop Shop Amy Raffel Art and Nature in the Anthropocene Planetary Aesthetics Susan Ballard Imaging and Mapping Eastern Europe Sarmatia Europea to Post-Communist Bloc Katazyna Murawska-Muthesius Arts-Based Methods for Decolonising Participatory Research Edited by Tiina Seppälä, Melanie Sarantou and Satu Miettinen Olfactory Art and the Political in an Age of Resistance Edited by Gwenn-Aël Lynn and Debra Riley Parr A History of Solar Power Art and Design Alex Nathanson The Arabesque from Kant to Comics Cordula Grewe Mapping Paradigms in Modern and Contemporary Art Poetic Cartography Simonetta Moro For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Advances-in-Art-and-Visual-Studies/book-series/RAVS

A History of Solar Power Art and Design

Alex Nathanson

First published 2021 by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Alexander Nathanson The right of Alexander Nathanson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Nathanson, Alex, author. Title: A history of solar power art and design / Alex Nathanson. Description: New York : Routledge, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021004641 (print) | LCCN 2021004642 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367465681 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032042848 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003030683 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Art and electronics. | Solar energy in art. | Design and technology. | Photovoltaic cells. Classification: LCC N72.E53 N38 2021 (print) | LCC N72.E53 (ebook) | DDC 745.4–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021004641 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021004642 ISBN: 978-0-367-46568-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-04284-8 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-03068-3 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by KnowledgeWorks Global Ltd.

Contents

List of figuresvi Acknowledgmentsix Introduction

1

PART I

1 Solar Power in Context

11

2 Defining Photovoltaic Art and Design

28

PART II

3 Early PV Design

35

4 Solar Art Comes Alive

58

PART III

5 Textiles and Wearables

89

6 Sound Art118 7 Building Integrated Photovoltaics137 8 Sculpture and Installation156 9 Product Integrated Photovoltaics188 10 Additional Media and Future Directions199 Index

205

Figures

1.1 Prototype solar cell from Bell Labs (1956). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www.solarmuseum.org).17 1.2 Solar Cell and Ferris Wheel (1954). Courtesy of AT&T Archives and History Center.18 1.3 Using solar cells to power a radio transmitter (1954). Courtesy of AT&T Archives and History Center.19 1.4 Vanguard 1 satellite (1958). Courtesy of NASA.20 3.1 Charles Eames and Ray Eames, Solar Do-Nothing Machine (1957). Ⓒ Eames Office LLC (eamesoffice.com).36 3.2 Acopian Solar Radio (1957). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www.solarmuseum.org).39 3.3 International Rectifier Solar Car Kit (1964). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www.solarmuseum.org).39 3.4 Sharp EL 326S Solar Calculator (1985). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www.solarmuseum.org).41 3.5 Solar powered handheld game by Bandai (1982). Courtesy of Rik Morgan of www.handheldmuseum.com.42 3.6 Philippe Samyn and Partners, Fire Station Houten (1998–2000). Semi-transparent PV facade. Courtesy Philippe Samyn and Partners.45 3.7 Launch of Sunrise II (1975). Courtesy Robert Boucher.49 3.8 Janice Brown flying Gossamer Penguin (1980). Photograph by Don Monroe.51 3.9 Solar Challenger test flight (1981). Photograph by Don Monroe.52 4.1 Ted Victoria, Clothes Line Sound (1967). Courtesy the artist.59 4.2 Ted Victoria, Solstic #1 (1968). Courtesy the artist.60 4.3 Ted Victoria, Crawl (1968–70). Courtesy the artist.61 4.4 Joe Jones, Solar Music Hot House at Ars Electronica (1988). Photo courtesy of Gary Warner.64 4.5 Alvin Lucier, Solar Sounder I (1979).65 4.6 Jürgen Claus, Solar Crystal Sculpture (1994–95). Courtesy the artist.67 4.7 Mark Tilden, Enterprise, BEAM Photopopper robot (circa 1999). Courtesy Dave Hrynkiw.68 4.8 Grant McKee, a pair of BEAM Turmet robots (circa 2000). Courtesy Dave Hrynkiw.69 4.9 Ulrike Gabriel, Terrain_02 (1997). Courtesy the artist.74

Figures vii 4.10 Allan Giddy, Hours Remaining in the Life of Allan Giddy (1994). Courtesy the artist.76 4.11 Christina Kubisch, Zwölf Klänge und ein Baum (2013). Courtesy the artist.78 4.12 Benoît Maubrey, Solar Ballerina performance (1990). Courtesy the artist.79 4.13 Christina Kubisch, Dreaming of a Major Third: The Clocktower Project (1997), view from the clocktower. Courtesy the artist.80 4.14 Christina Kubisch, Dreaming of a Major Third: The Clocktower Project (1997), Courtesy MASS MoCA, photo Tom Adams/Reelife Productions and Folktography.81 4.15 Joyce Hinterding, The Oscillators (1995). Courtesy the artist.83 5.1 Noon Solar, Satchel bag (2008). Courtesy Marianne Fairbanks.97 5.2 Pauline van Dongen, Wearable Solar Dress (2013). Photo courtesy Mike Nicolaasen.101 5.3 Pauline van Dongen, Solar Shirt (2015). Photo courtesy Liselotte Fleur.103 5.4 Pauline van Dongen, Solar Windbreaker (2016). Photo courtesy Roos van de Kieft.104 5.5 Despina Papadopoulos, Day for Night Dress (2006). Courtesy the artist.106 5.6 Andrew Schneider, Solar Bikini (2006). Courtesy the artist.111 5.7 Amor Muñoz, Yuca_tech: Energy By Hand (2014–15). Courtesy the artist.113 5.8 Amor Muñoz, Oto_Lab: Applied Crafts (2017). Courtesy the artist.114 6.1 Björn Schülke, Aerosolar #2 (2010). Courtesy the artist/bitforms gallery.121 6.2 Patrick Marold, Solar Drones (2016). Courtesy the artist.122 6.3 Peter Blasser, collection of Solar Sounders. Courtesy the artist.124 6.4 Scott Smallwood, Green Fly (2008). Courtesy the artist.126 6.5 Allan Giddy, England Expects … (2014). Courtesy the artist.130 6.6 Zach Poff, Pond Station (2015). Courtesy the artist.131 6.7 Lightune.G, audio-visual performance July 20, 2012. Courtesy the artist.133 6.8 Peter Blamey, Double Partial Eclipse (2014). Courtesy the artist.134 7.1 Samuel Cabot Cochran, Benjamin Wheeler Howes, SMIT Sustainably Minded Interactive Technology, LLC. GROW (Prototype). 2005. Thin film photovoltaics, piezoelectric generators, screen printed conductive ink encapsulated in ETFE fluoropolymer lamination, stainless steel, nylon, neoprene rubber, copper wire, and aluminum. 192 × 96″ (487.7 × 243.8 cm). Gift of Marie-Josée and Henry R. Kravis. Digital Image ©The Museum of Modern Art/Licensed by SCALA/Art Resource, NY.140 7.2 Philippe Samyn and Partners, Castle Groenhof (1996–99). Courtesy Philippe Samyn and Partners.142 7.3 En Aquellos Tiempos Fotohistorias del Westside (2020), a Land Art Generator Solar Mural Artwork. Visual graphic by San Antonio artist Adriana Garcia with creative direction by Penelope Boyer. Poetry by Carmen Tafolla. Photography on artwork by Antonia Padilla.143 7.4 DSSC facade, SwissTech Convention Center, in Lausanne, Switzerland (2014). Photo by David Martineau (Solaronix SA).144

viii  Figures 7.5 Marjan van Aubel, Current Window (2015). Courtesy the artist.145 7.6 Photovoltaic membrane designed by Pvilion, Solar Decathlon— Techstyle Haus (2014). Photo Kristen Pelou.147 7.7 Sarah Hall, The Science of Light (2009), photo by A.J. Rose. Copyright Sarah Hall Studio.150 7.8 Sarah Hall, Lux Gloria (2011), photo by Grant Kernan. Copyright Sarah Hall Studio.152 7.9 GreenPix by Simone Giostra and Partners with Arup (2008).153 8.1 Alex Nathanson, 6V Solar Mosaic: Refugees Welcome (2017). Courtesy the artist.158 8.2 Art and Energy, Dawn Breaks (2019). Courtesy the artist.159 8.3 Krystal Persaud, Solar Cat (2019). Courtesy the artist.159 8.4 Björn Schülke, Luftraum #1 (2012). Courtesy the artist/bitforms gallery.161 8.5 Björn Schülke, Solar Magnetic Needle (2019). Courtesy the artist/ bitforms gallery.163 8.6 Daniel Imboden, Licht und Schatten (2014). Courtesy the artist.164 8.7 Daniel Imboden, Solarwippe (2017). Courtesy the artist.165 8.8 Gilberto Esparza, Perejil Buscando Al Sol (2007). Courtesy the artist.166 8.9 Joaquín Fargas, Rabdomante (2019). Courtesy the artist.167 8.10 Spencer Finch, Lunar (2011). Courtesy the artist.168 8.11 Jason Eppink, Solar Projector (2013). Courtesy the artist.169 8.12 Chris Meigh-Andrews, Mothlight (1998). Courtesy the artist.172 8.13 Allan Giddy, Home (2012). Courtesy the artist.177 8.14 Bonita Ely, Thunderbolt (2010). Photo: Snow, Holly Sydney.179 9.1 Marjan van Aubel, Cyanometer (2017). Courtesy the artist.190 9.2 Electric Mondrian (2015). Courtesy Wilfried G.J.H.M. van Sark.191 9.3 Bridgestone World Solar Challenge (2019). Courtesy South Australian Tourism Commission.192 9.4 Nina Edwards Anker, Latitude Lights (2017). Courtesy the artist.195 9.5 Marjan van Aubel, Current Table (2016). Courtesy the artist.197 10.1 Bart Vandeput, Tongue Testing/Tasting of a Temporary PhotoElectric Digestopian, Edible Alchemy Table Landscape Event, Co-created in collaboration with course leader Carole Collet and students of Future Textiles, Central Saint-Martins College, University of the Arts, London—February 2013. Photo: © by Mischa Haller 2013/Mischa Photo Ltd.202

Acknowledgments

This book would not have been possible without the support of numerous people along the way. I am deeply indebted to Dylan Neely, Will Owen, Aurinely Lopez Almonte, Patrick Costello, Mel and Marjorie Nathanson, Anne Pasek, Roopa Vasudevan, Rebecca Zakheim, Carina Kaufman-Gutierrez, Seth Timothy Larson, Allan Giddy, John Heida, and Tamanda Msosa. The encouragement from NYU’s Integrated Digital Media department, particularly Benedetta Piantella, Tega Brain, R. Luke DuBois, Scott Fitzgerald, and Mark Skwarek were also crucial to the success of this project. Such a multidisciplinary book as this could never have been written without the prior work of numerous artists, designers, engineers, and researchers. I’m particularly grateful to all those who spoke with me about their work and provided images for this publication. I also owe a huge thanks to the team at Routledge for all of their work on this project.

Introduction

Artists and designers have been exploring the aesthetic possibilities of the modern photovoltaic (PV) cell since its invention in 1954. In that time there has yet to be a comprehensive interdisciplinary survey of the history of solar power as a creative medium, and, as a result, there is limited knowledge of this field. The increasing need for integrating sustainable energy technologies into our culture – brought about by climate change – requires that more work be done in this space, in order to develop the resources needed to adequately address the nuances and challenges of working with PV technologies. This book explores the history of creative practice involving PV solar power, identifies design methodologies and trends, and outlines the unique opportunities for creative expression that PV solar power enables. Climate change is driving a cultural and societal shift in behavior, and requires embracing sustainable technologies to power our lives. Many of the technical solutions needed to respond to the climate crisis, like solar and wind power, have existed for years. They are tried and true, and even economical. What we lack is the political will and cultural drive. In some parts of the world, the resistance to change is shifting with countries and businesses rising to the challenge, while in other regions, like the United States, the government has yet to mobilize the resources needed to address the dire situation. While this undoubtedly has much to do with power dynamics and entrenched political interests, it is worthwhile to ask to what extent is the climate crisis an aesthetic challenge?1 Is it an issue of communicating the problem? Is it a branding issue where the solutions seem unpalatable or uncool? Is it a lack of empathy on the part of those with the largest carbon footprint and greatest financial resources? Is it a general inability to imagine a different world that is less toxic and more equitable? The obstinacy is likely some combination of all of these factors, and more. As PV and the adjacent technologies that are integral parts of many PV systems, like batteries, continue to evolve, the possibilities for new designs and applications will expand. An increasing number of artists will likely incorporate it into their practices as these possibilities emerge and the technology becomes more accessible, culturally relevant, and further integrated into our surroundings. The aesthetics of our built environment have a significant impact on how we move through the world, encompassing everything from the psychological effects of architectural features, to the ergonomic considerations of a consumer device, to the stories we want to communicate through art. We must consider the aesthetics of the response to climate change, not simply for the sake of something “looking good,” but to ensure we develop solutions that actually fit within peoples’ lives, are accessible, inclusive, and communicate what we intend to communicate. Presently, the resources available to artists

2  Introduction and designers working in this space are severely lacking, because they provide only a traditional understanding of PV technologies. They fail to address aesthetic considerations and user experience issues, central concerns when considering communication and accessibility as important aspects of a project. In order for artists and designers to develop successful PV solar power projects that function properly, while reaching the full artistic potential of the material, there is a need for resources that contextualize the field and speak to the unique considerations in an aesthetic context. I first interacted with solar power in 2014, when I co-curated an exhibition of electronic artwork in a community garden with Carina Kaufman-Gutierrez for the organization Flux Factory. Even though we were in the middle of New York City – not an area you would typically consider off-grid – the outdoor show had no access to electricity and we needed to figure out how to power the exhibits. Solar power was the best choice for the situation, so we installed a small off-grid system to run the show. Since then, I have worked extensively with PV as an engineer, artist, and educator. During that period, two experiences in particular solidified the need for more research into aesthetics and PV. First, in my capacity as a multimedia engineer working for artists and art institutions, I am regularly involved with designing solar powered artworks. I have seen numerous examples of large scale public art installations that attempted to be powered by solar power, but failed because of poor planning and a misunderstanding of the nature of PV technology. The most glaring example was a solar powered installation for a large music festival in New York City in 2018 that the producers of the festival sited directly underneath a few large trees, completely obscuring any sunlight. To make matters worse, the company that supplied the solar power equipment to the artists had sold them components that weren’t compatible. The artists decided to assemble the solar array, but because the hardware wasn’t sized properly, only about 10% of the system was wired together and operating. The installation was promoted as a solar powered artwork even though it was actually running on grid power – a textbook case of greenwashing. 2 The second experience occurred the summer after Hurricane Maria, in 2018, when both the natural disaster and atrocious humanitarian response devastated Puerto Rico. I was working with an organization to install solar power systems throughout the island. The inability of the organization I was working for to adequately communicate technical information to victims of the hurricane, who were the recipients and future caretakers of the solar power systems we installed, undercut the important work that needed to be done and in some instances led to new problems for people who had already lost so much. While these two situations on the surface may seem completely unrelated, they are united by the need for better communication and education around the technologies that are crucial for mitigating the impacts of climate change. Climate scientists paint a dire picture of the climate crisis. It requires swift and decisive action to stave off the worst possible future scenarios and limit the global average temperature increase to 1.5C° above pre-industrial levels.3 Climate change impacts every place on earth uniquely, because of geography, economics, and culture. As a result, the response to climate change must address local challenges, incorporate local concerns, and learn from local and Indigenous expertise. The climate crisis exacerbates existing inequality and makes vulnerable populations even more vulnerable. Frontline communities that are most directly impacted by climate change and have historically suffered from environmental racism must play a leading role in

Introduction 3 the energy transition. Success in combating climate change will only come with a just transition to cleaner energy infrastructure. The causes of climate change are rooted in the extractive capitalism and colonialism that has ravaged the planet and people all over the world, particularly Indigenous communities, people of color, and residents of the Global South. A just transition must work to heal these historic imbalances, because it is not possible to fix a problem within the very systems that led to the problem in the first place. A part of the solution to addressing this crisis is communication and education, areas where art and design have a huge role to play. PV creative practice ranges widely in its motivating factors, aesthetic criteria, ethical concerns, direct environmental impact, political goals, and other considerations. There is a long history of artists observing and engaging with the environment, but this engagement does not necessarily have a positive environmental value. Those that are concerned with environmental ethics and an equilibrium between humans and the rest of the planet (as we all should be) are part of an ancient tradition of sustainable land stewardship. PV art and design, like any medium that incorporates materials typically associated with environmental benefit or engages in climate communication, runs the risk of participating in greenwashing, misguided solutionism, green gentrification, overvaluing personal responsibility, lack of accountability for those with the largest climate impacts, and other pitfalls that are common in this space. This book is an attempt to provide a historical framework for practitioners to create informed work. The lack of historical knowledge in this field has limited the ability of practitioners to build awareness of the existence of this field, develop critical dialog, and create a community of practitioners to support this growing need. On top of that, very few technical resources exist that specifically address the needs of the artists and designers who would be filling this gap. Because a solar cell’s output is environmentally dependent, varying widely depending on the amount of light it receives, traditional electronics resources fall short. There is a need for in-depth and interdisciplinary educational resources for aesthetic applications of PV with a critical understanding of design. In the context of a history of this medium, the importance of an interdisciplinary resource lies in the fact that no single field can fully explore the possible applications of the technology, and it is only when looking at it as a whole that the nuances are revealed. In regards to technical resources, there are significant opportunities for practitioners in one discipline to learn the techniques of another area and apply them to their field. In addition to serving artists and designers, whom we could refer to collectively as creative solar power professionals, these same resources can benefit other people working in similarly niche areas of the solar power and climate sciences fields. This can include educators, people in community outreach positions, and other non-engineers who play crucial roles in educating the public and supporting communities most impacted by climate change. At an academic level, what limited research is available is mostly concerned with the design of residential and utility scale PV installations and, to a lesser extent, of consumer device integrated PV (DIPV). There is almost no art-historical writing on the subject. There are a number of published academic articles written by the artists themselves documenting their own work. While these articles provide insights into their specific practice, they rarely include significant background sections and do not help illuminate this history or easily connect to other artists and designers.

4  Introduction Institutional support of this type of work, through exhibitions, archives, and other mechanisms is similarly sparse. While many PV art projects have been exhibited and some of the artists are incredibly accomplished, the work is rarely contextualized within the history of PV or presented alongside other PV projects. Unlike other similar and occasionally overlapping fields of artistic practice like eco art and public art, there is no dedicated archive or database specifically focused on PV aesthetics, other than my own archiving work with the Solar Power for Artists Archive.4 The lack of support underscores the need to establish this history and identify conceptual frameworks for artists and designers working in this field. Aside from publications like Land Art Generator’s A Field Guide to Renewable Energy Technologies, 5 there are very limited technical resources for PV aimed at artists and designers. There are a huge number of reliable books geared towards electronic artists and hobbyists that contain very useful information on creative applications of electronics, but none deals with PV content in much depth, if at all. They do not address the specific idiosyncrasies and nuances of PV and fall short of the practical needs of creative professionals. These resources typically assume the user has a stable power source, such as a battery. This assumption is generally the starting point for both designing a project and troubleshooting problems. Because a solar cell’s output is inherently variable and environmentally dependent, these basic assumptions around the power supply do not hold up. This makes learning, prototyping, and designing from these resources difficult. Practitioners typically rely on finding informal technical information online and applying general electronics educational content to PV, both of which have significant limitations. The worthwhile resources online are most commonly materials that artists have produced for workshops, or documentation from solar power hardware companies, who are incentivized to produce educational content as a way to attract customers and manage user expectations. In the broader areas of sustainable energy systems and traditional applications of solar power, there are many academic programs that train future engineers and policy makers on all of the complexities of the field. In many areas there are trade schools and continuing education programs with robust curricula for training and credentialing PV technicians. While some of this knowledge, like the basic engineering concepts, is transferable to creative applications, none of these existing programs are appropriate for artists and designers working in this space. The reasons PV solar power is the primary focus of this book, as opposed to solar power in general or other sustainable energy systems, is that, in addition to its importance to combating climate change, it is accessible, scalable, and expressive. The opportunities for artists and designers to engage with PV are immense. From involvement in the early stage research of the smallest building blocks of these systems, the PV cell, to the end-user experience of mass produced consumer devices, creative professionals have a role to play. Pattern, for example, is an incredibly important aspect of human culture. By reconsidering the pattern of a solar cell, traditionally white lines on a dark blue surface, we have the potential, as the textile designer Marianne Fairbanks has said, to design something that functions not just at a technical level, but also holistically, as a solar collector.6 This approach applies not just to the visual aesthetic, but to all design considerations. In addition to PV growing in use within art and design projects, creative industries at-large will need to adapt to the climate crisis. This transition requires more

Introduction 5 sustainable uses of materials, like designing for long-term use rather than planned obsolescence, and reimagining the economics of particular industries. As more artists embrace these technologies, the rest of the art world ecosystem will need to respond. Curators, producers, exhibition designers, and conservators, among others, will need to understand the history and technology to contextualize it, properly display it, and maintain it. Art historians will need to understand this work in the context of the technical capabilities, economics, social values, etc. of the era in which it was produced. Because there is relatively little interdisciplinary writing in the area of PV art and design, many readers of this book will likely be familiar with either the technical aspects of PV or the art and design aspects, but it is unlikely that more than a few readers will be experts in both. For this reason, the book includes entry-level contextual information to ensure it is approachable for readers in a variety of fields. Additionally, I have attempted to identify design methodologies and aesthetic trends that can be applied broadly across the entire field of PV creative practice in order to illuminate the unique opportunities afforded by PV and to establish a relationship between seemingly disparate projects. Initially, the book tracks this history chronologically, but as the field expands and more creative solar power professionals are working concurrently with dramatically different methodologies it departs from this linear approach in order to focus on specific influential mediums and movements. The practitioners and projects discussed throughout the book are not meant to be a complete list of every PV art or design project that has ever been created, but are meant to illustrate relevant trends and give an accurate picture of the diversity of approaches within the field. Part 1 contextualizes and defines this medium. Chapter 1 positions PV aesthetic practices in the context of the larger thoroughly documented history of solar power. The chapter outlines early uses of solar power and explains the variations in contemporary PV systems. It also examines other trends in the solar power industry, such as PV prices and the public’s perception of climate change and alternative energy technologies. Chapter 2 defines PV aesthetics. It describes the unique properties of the technology and the poetics it affords. The chapter concludes with identifying a number of cross-disciplinary design criteria for PV projects. Part 2 looks at PV art and design in the 20th century. Chapter 3 looks at the design field, while Chapter 4 looks at the artwork being made during this time. The PV cell was applied to aesthetic applications, consumer products, and space technologies almost immediately after its invention. However, it was not widely utilized until the 1970s when the oil crisis led to an explosion of investment and research that made solar cells significantly more accessible. This enabled more artists and designers to experiment with the technology. By the end of the 1990s, solar power had found its way into a very wide range of practical applications and artistic media including sculpture, robotics, public art, sound art, and environmental art. Part 3 explores PV art and design in the 21st century. The turn of the century is a useful demarcation, because it is the beginning of a period of dramatic growth in the PV industry. It also represents a shift towards more refined PV design strategies and an increase in the amount of practitioners creating artwork. Chapter 5 focuses on wearable technology and textiles in relation to PV. This chapter traces the attempts at both the design and commercialization of textiles and

6  Introduction wearable technology with integrated PV. Examining the evolving challenges designers faced in this space over the last 20 years, such as problems with supply chains, battery technologies, and the public perception and user experience of these devices, reveals much about the sustainable energy industry and the challenges posed by climate change at large. Chapter 6 dives into the wide range of approaches that artists have taken when incorporating solar power into sound art. In part due to the ease by which other experimental music concepts and techniques could be applied to working with PV, sound art is one of the largest and most diverse fields within PV artistic practice. Important concepts like John Cage’s notion of chance operations can be applied very directly to the variability and randomness that result from the fluctuations of batteryless PV sound-making devices. Musicians have a long history of experimenting with both uses and misuses of technology to make sound, and solar power is no exception. Chapter 7 addresses traditional notions of solar power art and design in the context of building integrated PV (BIPV). Most of the academic research into PV design is focused on this area and, unlike most other fields; there have been a few attempts to define the aesthetic design criteria of these types of systems. The amount of infrastructure change brought about by the climate crisis will be massive and we will need to design the new sustainable systems with the same aesthetic care we apply to architecture and infrastructure presently. In addition to the mass produced BIPV modules that are intended to augment or blend in seamlessly with existing building materials, a number of artists coming from areas like architectural glass and industrial design have also created BIPV works. Chapter 8 examines PV sculpture and installation. It encompasses artists who use solar cells as sculptural material, kinetic sculpture, light installations, video installation, and public art. A handful of artists have explored the form of the solar cell and its aesthetic possibilities, creating unique, typically hand built, solar modules displaying text, or graphic designs. This section will also discuss solar farms that arrange solar modules to create images. Since its early development, kinetic sculpture has continued to push forward with an incredibly wide range of dynamic, mostly playful, and occasionally menacing mechanical designs. Video artists, who have a long tradition of exploring the esoteric poetics of many materials, have also focused on examining the poetics of PV when incorporating the material into their work. Public art particularly lends itself to solar power, because most of it is located outdoors. Because of its high visibility, solar powered public art has been a site for public education and activism, typically around the themes of climate change or sustainability. Chapter 9 looks at product integrated PV (PIPV). The chapter highlights some common PIPV product categories that include lighting, power supplies, vehicles, furniture, office products, toys, and business-to-business applications. The chapter also looks at user experience design within this domain. The user experience of PV products provides insight into how the public understands and engages with this technology. The final chapter examines a few niche PV media subjects that provide additional insight into the opportunities for artists and designers working with these technologies. These areas are solar powered venues, interfaces for solar powered media, PV printmaking, and PV culinary art. This chapter also looks at potential future opportunities for solar powered art and design.

Introduction 7 The history of solar power art and design has generally been tied to the centers of research, manufacturing, and installation within the solar industry, where the technology was most accessible. Initially this occurred in the United States, but was followed soon after by practitioners in Europe, Japan, and Australia. Today, while there are centers of research and manufacturing in particular regions, the solar industry is global. Practitioners all over the world are designing products, making engaging art works, and developing innovative solutions to address complex issues of sustainability and resilience. As the transition towards clean infrastructure progresses and PV technology becomes increasingly accessible all over the world, the scope of PV creative practice will expand along with it and encompass a growing range of stakeholders, techniques, and perspectives. Because this book is the first in-depth history to be written of this siloed medium the challenges associated with documenting and defining it have been significant. This is a highly multi-disciplinary book and as such is indebted to the research, ideas, designs, art projects, and hard work of countless people working in all the various niches of this field. Ultimately, I hope my research into the history of aesthetics and PV moves the solar power conversation beyond simply a discussion of its functional capabilities and considers its role in a culture that must rapidly adapt to a changing climate.

Notes 1 Anne Pasek, “Mediating Climate, Mediating Scale” Humanities 8, no. 4 (2019): 159. 2 Sebastião Vieira de Freitas Netto et al., “Concepts and Forms of Greenwashing: A Systematic Review,” Environmental Sciences Europe 32, no. 1 (December 2020), doi:10.1186/ s12302-020-0300-3. Greenwashing is when an entity, often a company, misleads stakeholders about their environmental impact. A few common forms of greenwashing are using vague and nonspecific claims, juxtapositions with environmental imagery, deflection from unfriendly to friendly environmental behavior, hidden environmental tradeoffs, and outright false claims. 3 IPCC, 2018: Summary for Policymakers. In: Global Warming of 1.5°C. An IPCC Special Report on the impacts of global warming of 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels and related global greenhouse gas emission pathways, in the context of strengthening the global response to the threat of climate change, sustainable development, and efforts to eradicate poverty [Masson-Delmotte, V., P. Zhai, H.-O. Pörtner, D. Roberts, J. Skea, P.R. Shukla, A. Pirani, W. Moufouma-Okia, C. Péan, R. Pidcock, S. Connors, J.B.R. Matthews, Y. Chen, X. Zhou, M.I. Gomis, E. Lonnoy, T. Maycock, M. Tignor, and T. Waterfield (eds.)]. In Press. 4 “Archive,” Solar Power for Artists, accessed 1/9/2021, https://www.solarpowerforartists. com/archive/. 5 Robert Ferry and Elizabeth Monoian. A Field Guide to Renewable Energy Technologies 2nd. Edition (Land Art Generator, 2019), http://www.landartgenerator.org/LAGI-FieldGuideRenewableEnergy-ed2.pdf. 6 Marianne Fairbanks, Interview with Alex Nathanson, November 13, 2018.

Part I

1

Solar Power in Context

The typical history of PV solar power predominantly focuses on technical, economic, environmental, and political issues.1 However, these histories have paid little attention to the industry’s impact on culture and aesthetics, or vice versa. Understanding the history of solar power, its relationship to other aspects of the energy industry, and the ways they have shaped our world is crucial context for understanding the history of PV in art and design. While it may be fairly intuitive that artists engage with a particular material in direct proportion to how pervasive it is in society, PV technologies provide a particularly clear picture of that relationship. When examining this traditional history of PV alongside the volume of artists and designers working with these technologies, a noticeable trend emerges. As the price of these materials decreases and they become more present in society, artists and designers incorporate them into their practices in equal measure. Design and spectacle have long played a role in explaining and demonstrating the possibilities of PV technologies. Aesthetics is inseparable from the solutions to the climate crisis. Art and design have an important role to play, especially in regards to communicating the possibilities and limitations of technology and enabling a more just transition to clean energy. To adequately fulfill this role, artists and designers must contend with the issues that have shaped the history of this technology and their impact on people’s lives. The work documented throughout this book, and the concepts and techniques that connect them, are intertwined with the more traditional understanding of the history of solar power. It has become increasingly clear over the last decade, as the cost of renewables has dropped tremendously and the economic impacts of climate change have increased and are only projected to get worse, 2 that many of the technologies needed to combat climate change already exist and the barriers to change are more cultural and political than technological or even economic. Art and design are important tools for driving this change.

Sun Culture The sun’s impact on culture begins long before humans could track its position or intentionally make use of its energy. There is no human activity that doesn’t require energy and a great deal of this energy is derived from the sun. The sun is, by its very nature, global and pervasive. Its importance, particularly for food and warmth, but also for light and time-keeping, is reflected in how widely it is represented in cultures

12  Part I the world over. The sun appears prominently in nearly every aspect of human culture, spanning religion, mythology, politics, art, and architecture, to name a few. Many solar themes persist in various forms today, such as contemporary ceremonies and holidays that have their roots in sun-related ceremonies, either directly or indirectly through harvest and fertility celebrations. 3 Solar iconography and signifiers are present throughout the world. Madanjeet Singh, an author and diplomat who worked closely with UNESCO documenting cultures around the globe, notes that, “The baffling complexity of solar symbolism is essentially rooted in barely a handful of fundamental motifs, such as the rudimentary shapes of plain or radiate circles, and concentric circles with dots, spirals, wheels, and other nimbus-like shapes, as seen in petroglyphs all over the world.”4 In addition to these symbols, a wide range of anthropomorphic and zoomorphic forms became associated with the sun. Sun imagery was intended to convey concepts related to power, godliness, life, and fertility, among other meanings. The inherently global presence of the sun uniquely enabled it to take on both particular and regionally specific cultural significance and also broader and more universally identifiable significance that persists across cultures. The metaphors and iconography found in these early activities can be seen in some PV art and design today still. Even before knowledge of solar positioning was established, architectural spaces were designed with the sun in mind. Singh has documented a myriad of cultures that related height and mountains to being closer to the sun, and by extension to the divine. Many temples were built on mountains and in the image of mountains to reflect these values. As knowledge of celestial movements grew, architectural spaces were designed as time keeping tools for tracking and visualizing solar events. Stonehenge, which was constructed in various stages beginning around 3000 BCE through 2000 BCE, is one of the more famous of these early examples. While the structure’s exact builders, users, and purposes remain unknown, it is clear that it was designed intentionally for the central axis to align with the sunrise on the summer solstice and sunset at the winter solstice. 5 A few thousand years later, likely around the 10th century CE, Mayans were capable of tracking the sun closely and created the most meticulous calendars of their era. They designed structures that could cast shadows depicting simple zoomorphic iconography at particular times of year. One of the most prominent examples of this is found at the El Castillo step pyramid at Chichén Itzá, in Yucatán, Mexico. Late in the afternoon on the equinoxes, a triangular pattern evocative of the body of a rattlesnake is projected onto the northern balustrade of the pyramid. The projection, known as the feathered serpent, aligns with a sculpted snake head at the bottom of the staircase.6 Even more complex architectural structures built in relation to solar events were created in the 15th and early 16th centuries by the Incas, who worshipped the sun. These complex structures included light tubes that illuminated interior altars at particular times of year and features that could create relatively complex displays of light and shadow in zoomorphic forms, like a puma.7 In addition to architectural structures, they used their knowledge of time keeping for religion and agriculture. The full extent of the Inca’s solar knowledge and the degree to which it was incorporated into their built environment is unknown, because Spanish colonizers sought to eradicate their religion and the tools associated with it in the 16th century.8 As knowledge of solar technologies spread, particularly in regards to architecture, references to these technologies could communicate increasingly complex meanings.

Solar Power in Context 13 The solar energy historian John Perlin notes that as solar architecture grew in importance in Chinese society, the principles of solar architecture carried over into culture. The southwestern corners of homes, typically the warmest area, were reserved for respected members of the family and the emperor faced the direction of the sun to signal enlightenment.9 The global awareness of the sun’s power and importance led rulers throughout history to associate themselves with the sun, often through claiming that their lineage descended from the sun or adopting the sun as an epithet. Singh writes, While artists, architects, and technicians benefited from the useful ideas inspired by the sun, and prophets, such as Zoroaster and Mani, invoked the sun’s divine light of virtue over the darkness of evil, great conquerors and rulers employed the spirit of solar universality in order to ensure the loyalty and undivided allegiance of their subjects. Confronted with the ever-growing number of antagonistic sects which engendered social tensions, ethnic hatred, and religious animosity, emperors such as Akhenaton in Egypt, Aurelian in Rome, Alexander the Great, Ashoka and Akbar in India, Louis XIV in France, and others- albeit widely separated in time and space- attempted in their own way to create stable governments through norms of unity symbolized by the sun. The “Sun King” of France stated that “L’Etat c’est moi,” and across the Atlantic, all that lay under the sun was claimed by the “Sun King” of the Incas.10 The symbolic relationship between the sun and power continues to exist today. Movements across the political spectrum commonly incorporate themes relating to the sun into their names and slogans to suggest change, progress, optimism, dependability, renewal, rebirth, universality, or purity. In North Korea, the sun is featured prominently in the cult of personality surrounding the country’s dictators. The annual celebration of the birth of the country’s founder is called the Day of the Sun and sun-related terminology has figured prominently into various titles given to their dictators over the years. The Golden Dawn is the name of a Greek far right neo-Nazi party. In the United States, Ronald Reagan’s notorious “Morning in America” campaign advertisement from 1984 played on themes of nostalgia to convince the white middle class that the country was on the right track.11 In 2008, the logo for Barack Obama’s presidential campaign depicted a sunrise to symbolize hope.12 The importance of sunlight for agriculture, heating, and illumination meant that access to sunlight would be an essential issue. The urban planning of early Chinese cities ensured that all residents could have access to sunlight. As early as 432 BCE in Greece, equitable access to sunlight was associated with democratic values.13 By 200 CE, the Roman legal system adjudicated disputes relating to blocking sunlight entering the heliocaminus, an architectural element for passive solar heating.14 In the United Kingdom, the common law doctrine of ancient lights, which originated in 1663, gives a property owner the right to maintain access to light if they have had a window exposed to sunlight for a sufficient enough time.15 In the United States, there is no common law right to sunlight, but individual states or municipalities may have laws that deal with this issue. These laws that pertain to solar power typically take the form of solar easements, which establish the right to sun exposure, or solar rights, which gives the property owner the right to install solar modules.16

14  Part I

Solar Energy Solar energy can encompass any type of energy derived from the sun’s electromagnetic energy. This includes thermal, PV, and chemical energies. The electromagnetic energy that makes its way to earth begins with thermonuclear reactions in the sun. Some portion of the sun’s energy that reaches earth is reflected back out into space and much of the rest is absorbed as thermal energy. A small portion is converted into chemical energy by photosynthesis in plants. These various energies undergo numerous further transformations to support life in a multitude of ways.17 Outside of farming, the primary and most practical intentional uses of solar energy have been to produce heat, via solar thermal, or to produce electricity, predominantly via the photovoltaic effect. Solar thermal is commonly used for heating either physical spaces or water, but has been employed in a huge variety of activities. PV solar power, which this book is primarily concerned with, converts the sun’s energy directly into electricity. This is enabled through the photovoltaic effect, the phenomenon that some materials produce voltage and current when exposed to light. Energy can be a hard term to pin down, especially when considering its cultural baggage. Its generic definition, as the capacity for work, doesn’t do it justice. Vaclav Smil, a prolific writer on all things energy, has described energy as encompassing a series of “stores, potentials, and transformations,”18 which can resist simple distinctions. Even this broader definition doesn’t encompass the full range of possible implications of the term. Understanding the term energy, particularly with an eye toward the art-historical context of this book, requires an awareness of how it contains numerous meanings that may or may not persist across different contexts. Douglas Kahn has expanded on Smil’s definition and provides a framework for considering it in a broader, more expansive cultural context. He writes, Translation problems are endemic as concepts and conditions of energy interact with individual and collective experience, traditional cultures and Indigenous knowledges, because whatever “energy” might be, it cannot be easily separated from its modern genesis as an abstraction developed in nineteenth-century European science and engineering, extraction and efficiency, industry and imperialism.19 When applied to the field of art, the difficulty in defining energy becomes more explicit. Energy is obviously present in the production of raw materials, the creation and presentation of an artwork, and the construction and maintenance of a physical environment required to experience a piece, but less tangible forms of energy are present as well in the vibrancy of a particular cultural scene or location as well as in the transformation that occurs when a viewer feels inspired by engaging with a particular bit of culture. Kahn argues for an understanding of the concept of energy that is fluid and contains multiple meanings; a plurality of energies that can converge and diverge as needed. 20 This understanding provides a framework for conceiving of the poetic possibilities of energy technologies in relation to their technical affordances. Solar energy is narrower and more clearly defined than just energy, although there are still many types of transformations and variations involved. Any understanding of solar energy must be understood in the context of the role that energy at large has played in shaping our world.

Solar Power in Context 15 Power, like energy, can be a fraught term that also resists simple definitions. The word power is ready-made for metaphoric and poetic uses that bridge its dual meanings, as a way to describe social and political relationships as well as its scientific meaning, as a measure of energy over time. These expansive definitions of energy and power provide a framework for using solar energy technologies for communication. The presence of an artifact, like solar power modules, in a given environment and the public’s general understanding of it impacts its capacity for communication. To understand the poetic potential, you must understand the culture surrounding it. More complex poetic applications of this technology rely, at least in part, on the audience’s understanding of it. The public’s evolving perspectives and knowledge of PV technologies is reflected in the ways that PV has been used in artwork and what artists may have hoped to convey.

Solar Thermal Today, in 2021, when a member of the public colloquially talks about solar power, they’re usually talking about PV solar power, but this hasn’t always been the case and will likely shift again as technologies and markets continue to evolve. In recent decades, as PV technologies improved and became more pervasive in the world, the conversation has shifted to be largely focused on this type of solar power. Solar power originally came into use as solar thermal, which is still widely used today. John Perlin’s work traces the history of solar technology and maps a multitude of uses that have included space heating, fire starters, cooking, heating water, driving motors, irrigation, industrial processes, and many failed attempts to build sun weapons. The earliest evidence of solar space heating (which we would now call passive solar thermal) dates back 6000 years ago to homes in Stone Age China. 21 The efficiency and importance of these architectural designs grew as celestial phenomena became better understood and building materials improved. These improvements began with tools to track the position of the sun over the course of a year, also first developed in China. Solar architectural techniques were further improved through thermal storage and insulation. Urban planners that were aware of solar thermal building techniques were able to improve the efficiency of these structures by giving more residents access to sunlight. 22 Solar architectural building practices evolved in numerous variations, but the fundamental principles are always the same. All solar energy technologies require at least a basic understanding of the position of the sun in relation to the installation site. Passive solar structures make use of the sun’s heat through architectural design and the choice of materials. These decisions are made in response to the building’s site and climate. Once built, passive elements do not consume additional energy. Active solar thermal involves electromechanical elements to facilitate some aspect of the collection, storage, or distribution of the heat. The general principle is to allow light into the space during colder months while obstructing light during the warmer months. The sun is highest in the sky in the summer and lowest in the winter, moving between 23 degrees north and 23 degrees south latitude. For people living above 23 degrees north or below 23 degrees south latitude, the sun will always be in the direction of the equator. By building a house with large windows facing the direction of the sun, with a long overhang above them, the house will be shaded from the high hot summer sun, but the low angled winter sunlight will be able to enter into the space to warm it.

16  Part I Beginning in the late 19th century, solar thermal began to also be used to heat water. The popularity of solar thermal water heaters demonstrates a common aspect of all energy systems. The value is inversely proportional to the accessibility of other competing energy methods. Solar water heaters could only successfully compete against wood stoves in areas without affordable access to natural gas.23 In the United States, their popularity fluctuated in relation to the accessibility of other methods for producing hot water, until the end of World War II, when they went out of fashion because of affordable gas, oil, and electricity. Outside of the United States, around this same time, solar water heaters began to gain popularity in countries that needed to import most of their fossil fuels. At the end of 2019, global solar thermal capacity was estimated to be 479 gigawatts (GW). 24 Concentrated solar power (CSP) is used to convert solar thermal energy into electricity, but it can also be used to directly produce steam power for industrial applications. CSP uses mirrors to reflect sunlight at a central location, heating up a heat transfer fluid, in order to ultimately generate electricity via a steam turbine. The “power tower” is the most widely installed type of CSP. This design features thousands of mirrors arrayed around a central tower. As of 2020, there is an estimated 1,815 megawatts (MW) of CSP power installed in the United States. 25 One of Perlin’s most compelling insights is a pattern he has identified that has recurred for thousands of years and continues to this day: solar knowledge is continually being developed and then lost, only to be rediscovered again at a later point. Poor environmental conditions and resource scarcity have historically forced architects and urban planners to make more efficient use of the sun. This knowledge was often lost because of war, cultural distrust of solar technologies, and in times of abundance that made energy efficiency appear unnecessary. The rediscovery of these techniques was typically spurred by the same type of situations that led a society’s predecessors to turn to solar power in the first place and forced cultural and technological change. 26 This pattern is evident today in the ways that the climate crisis is forcing changes upon us.

Photovoltaic Solar Power The photovoltaic effect was first identified in 1839 by French physicist AlexandreEdmond Becquerel, 27 but it wasn’t until 1954 that the modern practical PV solar cell was developed at Bell Labs, AT&T’s research and development lab in New Jersey.28 In the intervening 115 years numerous attempts to produce functional and useful PV cells were tried and, in the time since 1954, numerous advances in PV technologies have been made. This history of PV is intertwined with economic and technical changes in the field of solar power, as well as the political climate in the decades since. In the late 1860s, Willoughby Smith discovered that the resistance of selenium changed depending on the light conditions. He published these results in 1873, which led to a flurry of research into this phenomenon.29 The first selenium-based PV solar power array was installed by Charles Fritts on a rooftop in New York City in 1884.30 Fritt’s flat glass-covered modules looked similar to modern day PV modules.31 The selenium-based system was under 1% efficient,32 but the current was sufficient for him to use it to measure the resistance of other cells, as a photometer to measure the characteristics of light, as an electro-mechanical current regulator, and for communications like signaling, and telephonics.33 Despite this research into PV materials, the phenomenon

Solar Power in Context 17 of light turning into electricity remained a mystery until Einstein’s 1905 discovery of the packets of energy contained in light, which are now called photons. Interestingly, Fritts mentions that under certain conditions his cells would produce sound, but he chose not to investigate it in favor of more immediate practical applications. He writes, “Experiments also show that, if a telephonically undulating current is passed through the cell, it will give out the speech or other sound corresponding to the undulations of the current, and furthermore, that the cell will sing or speak in like manner without the use of a current, if a suitably varied light is thrown upon it while in closed circuit.”34 While it’s unclear exactly what he was doing to cause this sound, it is notable that he was intrigued enough by the sound to mention it alongside his more “immediately practically valuable” results. In 1954, three scientists at Bell Labs, chemist Calvin Fuller and physicists Daryl Chapin and Gerald Pearson, collaborated to produce the first silicon PV cell. At the time, Fuller and Pearson were developing silicon transistors. Over the course of their experiments, they identified the PV potential of silicon. Meanwhile, Chapin was investigating intermittent power supplies for environments that weren’t suitable for traditional batteries, like tropical high humidity areas, and had begun exploring selenium PV cells. Pearson suggested he look at silicon and their collaborative work led to the first practical solar cell35 (Figure 1.1). The relationship between PV, spectacle, and communication media begins almost immediately after this technological breakthrough. Transmitting voices and music, powered only by the sun, was important for garnering support and generating excitement about PV. When Bell Labs unveiled the technology at a demonstration for

Figure 1.1  Prototype solar cell from Bell Labs (1956). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www.solarmuseum.org).

18  Part I the press on April 25, 1954, the NY Times wrote, “With this modern version of Apollo’s chariot, the Bell scientists have harnessed enough of the sun’s rays to power the transmission of voices over the telephone wires. Beams of sunlight have also provided electricity for a transistor in a radio transmitter, which carried both speech and music”36 (Figure 1.2). The following week, the solar battery, as it was called at the time, was presented at a meeting of the National Academy of Sciences by powering a small toy ferris wheel37 (Figure 1.3). From the beginning, electronic media and storytelling was used to demonstrate the potential for this technology. At the time of their invention, these first silicon cells cost $286 a watt38,39 and their efficiency was 6%.40 While the efficiency had reached a practical level, the high cost prohibited it from being commercially viable at large scales. Initially, its only commercial applications were small transistor radios and novelty toys.

Figure 1.2 Solar Cell and Ferris Wheel (1954). Courtesy of AT&T Archives and History Center.

Solar Power in Context 19

Figure 1.3  Using solar cells to power a radio transmitter (1954). Courtesy of AT&T Archives and History Center.

The fate of this technology, finally useful after over a hundred years of experimentation, was unfortunately overshadowed by nuclear power. On December 8, 1953, less than a year before the Bell Lab’s breakthrough, President Eisenhower gave his “Atoms for Peace” speech at the United Nations.41 The speech established nuclear power as central to the United States’ energy policy and as a tool for US global influence. The hard power and horrifying violence of nuclear weapons would be papered over with the soft power of abundant nuclear energy. In part as an attempt to distinguish itself

20  Part I from the Soviet Union, the United States embarked on a plan to expand the peaceful applications of nuclear power. The use of nuclear energy for generating electricity dampened any significant interest in solar power. Without substantial US government support, PV solar power wouldn’t enter mainstream use in significant volumes for many years to come. However, in 1955 the US Army Signal Corps began work on solar powered satellites. The light-weight, durable, and renewable nature of PV was a perfect fit for space. In 1958 solar modules first went into space, when a small array, about 1 watt, was used to power the Vanguard 1, a NASA satellite42 (Figure 1.4). Solar power enabled both US and Russian satellites to operate for years in the harsh environment of space, far exceeding the lifespan of the battery powered satellites that came before them. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s there was not a lot of investment in the solar power industry. From 1950 to 1970, the US Federal Government budget for all solar power related research averaged only $100,000 per year. During this same time period, the US government invested hundreds of millions of dollars annually into nuclear energy.43 Improvements in the efficiencies of solar cells and the scale of installations crept up slowly during these decades. The largest PV system in operation in 1963 was a 242 watt array installed on a lighthouse in Japan.44 In the 1970s, geopolitics, economics, and technical advances converged to enable significant growth in the PV industry. The oil crises of the 1970s led to an increased interest

Figure 1.4  Vanguard 1 satellite (1958). Courtesy of NASA.

Solar Power in Context 21 in alternative energy. The 1973–74 Arab oil embargo caused oil prices to quadruple and just six years later, in 1979, they increased dramatically again as a result of the Iranian revolution. In 1971, the US government solar research budget was raised to $1 million, in 1973 it went up to $4 million, was raised to $115 million in 1976, and was massively expanded to $290.4 million in 197745. That same year Jimmy Carter created the Solar Energy Research Institute (SERI), which would eventually become the National Renewable Energy Laboratory (NREL), where a significant amount of cutting-edge PV research still takes place. This expansion of US government support peaked in 1979, when the Carter administration allocated $3 billion for solar research.46 They also installed solar thermal water heaters on the roof of the White House, although they were taken down during the Reagan administration. Technical innovations that were largely driven by fossil fuel companies in the 1970s contributed to decreasing the cost of PV module manufacturing. Exxon began investing in a new process for producing solar modules that was significantly cheaper than previous, space-grade solar modules. While still much more expensive than traditional grid-tied electricity, by the mid-1970s they were cheap enough that they were able to find a market for these modules in remote off-grid locations. These new modules were installed on oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico. By the early 80s they could be found on buoys and lighthouses at locations all over the world. The first significant land-based uses of PV also emerged during the 1970s. Land-based oil and gas pipelines in remote areas were again sites for many of these installations. PV also began to be used for more complex land-based communications. In 1976 the Navajo Communications Corporation installed the first solar powered microwave repeater in North America, connecting the remote area of Mexican Hat, Utah to Kayenta, Arizona.47 Much like other applications of solar power, the use of PV in communications was directly related to the difficulty of installing other types of systems in those areas. As a result, PV emerged in places with large rural populations that needed communications infrastructure, like Australia. Building applications of PV also started to emerge in the 1970s.48 US government support for PV dropped dramatically under the Reagan administration in the early 1980s. Without this support, the US PV industry crumbled. Research, manufacturing, and installations shifted away from the United States primarily toward Japan and Germany. By the late 1980s, Europe and Japan led the PV industry. Unlike in the United States, where oil companies were the primary investors in the PV industry, in Europe and Asia it was electronics companies that played the most prominent roles.49 For most of the 80s, solar installations were largely focused on large centralized solar power plants and residential installations increased slowly. In addition to challenges from competing energy sectors that opposed sustainable energy, it was difficult to site PV systems in residential areas during this period because of a lack of government incentives, cost, and aesthetic objections from neighbors. The focus shifted from large centralized PV power plants to distributed privately owned residential grid-tied systems in the late 80s. In 1986, the Swiss company Alpha Real launched Project Megawatt with the intention of installing 3 kilowatt (kW) systems on 333 privately owned residential rooftops throughout Switzerland. The project demonstrated the economic viability of grid-tied distributed solar at large scales, enabled in part because of the readily available residential roof space. These installations also helped establish the economic framework for homeowners to sell the electricity they produced back to the utility, a financial mechanism known as net metering. The success of Alpha Real’s work led to governments, particularly in Europe, Japan, and the United States,

22  Part I to adopt similar goals, often with subsidies to offset the installation costs.50 By 1996, roughly 500,000 homes and a few hundred commercial buildings globally had PV systems. Ten thousand of the homes were grid-tied as were most of the commercial buildings, but the rest of the homes were off-grid in predominantly rural areas.51 An important characteristic of PV, as opposed to other energy producing systems, is the capacity for decentralization. The traditional centralized power distribution system was built for electricity to move in one direction, from the producer to the consumer. In a thermal power plant, where fossil fuels are burned, the scale of the operation in large part determines the efficiency. The larger a thermal power plant is, the more energy efficient and cost effective it will be. This relationship encourages large centralized power plants with sprawling networks of transmission lines. This is also true of hydro and nuclear power. By contrast, scale doesn’t have a significant impact on the efficiency of solar power, although it does have some impact on the installation costs. This enables geographically distributed systems, because a small rooftop system is not significantly less efficient than a large one. The year 2000 marked the start of a major boom in the US, European, and Japanese solar industries. A number of factors contributed to this, including a drop in the price of solar cells and increases in government subsidies. One of the most significant factors in the price of solar has been the economy of scale. As more PV is manufactured and installed globally, the costs decrease because small efficiency gains are magnified and fixed costs are spread over more units manufactured or power produced. This boom period began to slow with the global financial crisis in 2008. In addition to the strains of the financial crisis, this disruption was brought about by the accessibility of cheap natural gas through fracking, the loss of government support, and the difficulties that US and European manufacturers had competing with Chinese manufacturers. The US PV manufacturing industry had fully crashed by 2011, taking a number of high-profile startups with it. Many of these companies relied on a venture capital startup model that was likely ill-suited to their businesses. These types of investors expect massive financial returns in a short period of time and the typical clean energy company creates more incremental returns over a long period.52 Between 1985 and 2007, Japan had been a leader in PV research, development, and manufacturing. Towards the end of this time period, the country shifted its policies and resources to favor nuclear power. By 2007, the Japanese PV industry had shrunk dramatically. Since the Fukushima nuclear disaster in 2011, there has been renewed interest in solar power in Japan.53 Germany’s position as a leader in the PV manufacturing industry lasted until 2012, when government policies shifted to be less favorable toward PV manufacturers, leading to many bankruptcies. Beginning around 2005, China started rapidly expanding its solar industry and by 2011 it was the global leader in PV manufacturing.54 Just as many US-based PV manufacturers were shutting down, in 2008, new financing methods for residential solar began to gain traction. 55 These new approaches allowed a homeowner to have a PV installation installed on their roof, often at no cost to them, while saving money on their electricity bill from the start. This led to an explosion in residential PV installation in the 2010s. Prior to this, homeowners would generally need to pay for a PV system up front and out of pocket, which could cost $30,000. They would make that money back over a long period of time through electricity bill savings and selling power to the grid. PV installations in regions of the world with inadequate access to electricity began in the late 1970s, but have become increasingly common. Particularly in the last

Solar Power in Context 23 decade, off-grid installations in Africa and parts of Asia have greatly increased. In many cases, the increase in accessibility was enabled through pay-as-you-go business models. Instead of having to purchase a prohibitively expensive system in full, this approach allows someone to have a small off-grid system while only paying a small monthly fee, generally less than or equivalent to what that person would have paid for kerosene or other fuels. This was enabled through new technologies like mobile banking, which allows users to easily make payments, and other wireless technologies that allow the service provider to remotely turn off the system if payments aren’t made. Many of the companies serving these regions offer a wide array of PV products tailored to various scales, which can include lights and appliances.

PV Cells The PV cell is the most basic unit of any PV system,56 regardless of whether it is a large infrastructure project using traditional mass manufactured modules or a small DIY artwork. There are many different types of PV cells, with varying materials, production methods, physical and electrical characteristics. Efficiency is one of the primary benchmarks for appraising a PV cell. PV efficiency is the percentage of energy in the light striking the surface of the cell that it can convert into electricity.57 The visual characteristics of PV cells are intertwined with their electrical characteristics. When aesthetics are prioritized in a PV installation, there is often a trade-off between visual design and efficiency. Color and transparency in particular have important implications for the efficiency of the cell. The color of the cell impacts the wavelengths of light that it can best absorb. Similarly, solar cells are a uniquely difficult material to make transparent, because they are intended to absorb photons. Transparent materials let photons pass through.58 The greater the transparency of the cell, the lower the efficiency. First generation solar cells are made from inorganic semiconductors, like silicon (Si). These crystalline cells are relatively expensive to produce, because they require a lot of material and energy. A very high temperature is required to produce these cells, which greatly increases the embodied energy59 of the device. As of 2019 silicon remains the most widely used material in PV cells and accounts for 97% of all PV cell production.60 This is due, in part, to the availability of silicon, one of the most abundant elements on earth, and because of the existing manufacturing and supply chain infrastructure. Monocrystalline silicon (mono-Si or c-Si) has hit efficiencies in lab tests as high as 26.1%.61 Polycrystalline cells (poly-Si or multi-Si) have reached efficiencies as high as 23.3%.62 Crystalline silicon cells are very stable and have a long life expectancy, of at least 20 years. Polycrystalline cells are cheaper than monocrystalline and make up the majority of installations. Most of the work discussed in this book relies on silicon cells, because their accessibility has allowed artists and designers to freely engage with the material. Monocrystalline cells are generally a flat uniform dark-blue color, while polycrystalline cells have a variety of blue sparkly tones. Other colors of silicon cells, like gold, green, and magenta, are also capable of being produced. These are less efficient and far less common than blue cells.63 Second generation cells emerged in the mid-1970s. These are what are known as thin film cells and are typically flexible. Second generation materials include amorphous silicon (a-Si:H or a-Si), copper indium gallium selenide (CIGS), and cadmium telluride (CdTe). These cells are generally cheaper to produce than first generation cells, because they require less material and have less embodied energy. A-Si was one

24  Part I of the earliest second generation cells to be developed. While its efficiency, at 14%,64 is lower in direct light than first generation cells, a-Si and some other second generation cells have a higher output in low light or indirect light. A-Si cells range from reddish-brown to black colors. Third generation cells are an emerging class of technologies. It includes a wide range of materials and manufacturing techniques that range from cheap and low-efficient to costly and high-efficient.65 These cells include dye-sensitized solar cells (DSC or DSSC), organic polymer cells, perovskite cells, and quantum dot cells. Presently, many of these third generation cells are not very stable and do not have long lifespans. Because of this short lifespan, there are very few active market applications for these devices. DSC and organic polymer cells hold the most promise for visual design. These cells potentially enable a wide range of characteristics, like color, transparency, and flexibility. They also require less material and heat to produce, which can significantly lower manufacturing costs and embodied energy, than previously available cells. DSC uses colored dyes to absorb sunlight. The first DSC with a practical level of efficiency that could also be produced cheaply, known as the Grätzel cell, was announced in 1991 by Brian O’Regan and Michael Grätzel. Their cell was 7.1–7.9% efficient in direct light, but could reach efficiencies as high as 12% in diffuse light.66 Organic polymer cells came about in the early 2000s. The highest lab efficiency documented for these cells is 18.2%. Organic polymer cells are particularly sensitive to ultraviolet solar radiation and oxygen, so encapsulating the devices for practical applications is particularly challenging.67

Renewable Futures The public perception of solar power and its future role in society is largely dependent on the public’s relationship to climate change. By the late 1970s, an increasing number of scientists were growing concerned about the effects of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. It wasn’t until 1988, when testimony in front of the US Congress on the greenhouse effect was widely publicized, that it began to enter the mainstream public’s consciousness.68 In the last decade, concern around climate change has grown globally, although significant portions of the world still do not view it as a threat.69 In the United States, 73% of people now believe in climate change70 and a majority of people prioritize renewable energy over fossil fuels.71 Many of the climate challenges we face are solvable with the political will to address them. Particularly in regards to electricity, the technologies we need to utilize already exist. Recent estimates suggest that the United States can meet the vast majority of its electricity needs with existing sustainable energy technologies by 2035.72 This will require significant investments into upgrading aging electrical grids. A more decentralized system requires smart infrastructure that can handle large volumes of bi-directional electricity. Energy storage is also crucial for shifting to a more sustainable system. A traditional electricity system is supplied by dispatchable resources. That means that if demand increases, the utility can ramp up production by burning more fuel, which is immediately consumed by users. Solar energy is an intermittent and non-dispatchable resource, meaning that it is limited by the amount of available sunlight and the system operator cannot decide to increase production on a whim. Storing energy produced by intermittent power sources can enable them to be treated like dispatchable resources.

Solar Power in Context 25 At the end of 2019, the global installed capacity of all renewable energy was estimated to be 2,536 GW and solar power made up 586 GW of it.73 By mid-2020, the United States generated 2.9% of its electricity from solar.74 As of 2020, solar power is one of if not the cheapest form of electricity in most regions of the world, particularly when compared against new fossil fuel electricity generation.75 These economic and environment trends ensure that solar power will become increasingly prevalent in coming years.

Notes 1 Varun Sivaram, Taming The Sun (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2018). 2 Jeremy Martinich and Allison Crimmins, “Climate Damages and Adaptation Potential across Diverse Sectors of the United States.” Nature Climate Change 9, no. 5 (May 2019): 397–404, https://doi.org/10.1038/s41558-019-0444-6. 3 Madanjeet Singh, The Sun: Symbol of Power and Life (New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1993), 92. 4 Singh, 59. 5 William Underhill, “Putting Stonehenge in Its Place.” Scientific American 304, no. 3 (March 2011): 48–53. 6 Anthony F. Aveni, Susan Milbrath and Carlos Peraza Lope, “Chichén Itzá’s Legacy in the Astronomically Oriented Architecture of Mayapán.” RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, no. 45, (Spring 2004): 123–43, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20167624. 7 S. R. Gullberg, “Inca Astronomy: Horizon, Light, and Shadow.” Astronomische Nachrichten 340, no. 1–3 (January 2019): 23–29, doi:10.1002/asna.201913553. 8 Steven R. Gullberg, “Marking Time in the Inca Empire.” Journal of Skyscape Archaeology 1, no. 2 (December 2015): 217–41, doi:10.1558/jsa.v1i2.28257. 9 John Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy (Novato: New World Library, 2013), 10. 10 Singh, The Sun: Symbol of Power and Life, 64. 11 Michael Beschloss, “The Ad That Helped Reagan Sell Good Times to an Uncertain Nation.” The New York Times, May 7, 2016, https://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/08/ business/the-ad-that-helped-reagan-sell-good-times-to-an-uncertain-nation.html. 12 “Obama Logo 08 Identity System: Final Design, Original Proposals and Design Manual.” Art Institute Chicago, accessed January 12, 2021, https://www.artic.edu/ artworks/202141/obama-logo-08-identity-system-final-design-original-proposalsand-design-manual. 13 Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, 14. 14 Perlin, 35. 15 Joshua B. Landis, “Sunny and Share: Balancing Airspace Entitlement Rights Between Solar Energy Adopters and Their Neighbors.” Vanderbilt Law Review 72, no. 3 (2019): 1075–114. 16 Colleen McCann Kettles, A Comprehensive Review of Solar Access Law in the United States, Solar America Board for Codes and Standards (October 2008), http://www. solarabcs.org/about/publications/reports/solar-access/pdfs/Solaraccess-full.pdf. 17 Vaclav Smil, Energy and Civilization: A History (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2017), 5. 18 Smil, 3. 19 Douglas Kahn, Energies in the Arts (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2019), 2. 20 Kahn, 23. 21 Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, 7. 22 Perlin, 19. 23 Perlin, 176. 24 Werner Weiss and Monika Spörk-Dür, Solar Heat Worldwide 2020 Edition, International Energy Agency Solar Heating & Cooling Programme (2020), https://www.ieashc.org/Data/Sites/1/publications/Solar-Heat-Worldwide-2020.pdf.

26  Part I 25 “Concentrating Solar Power,” Solar Energy Industries Association, accessed October 13, 2020, https://www.seia.org/initiatives/concentrating-solar-power. 26 Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, 71. 27 Shruti Sharma, Kamlesh Kumar Jain, Ashutosh Sharma, “Solar Cells: In Research and Applications—A Review,” Materials Sciences and Applications 6, no. 12 (December 2015): 1145–55, doi:10.4236/msa.2015.612113. 28 D. M. Chapin, C. S. Fuller, and G. L. Pearson, “A New Silicon P-n Junction Photocell for Converting Solar Radiation into Electrical Power.” Journal of Applied Physics 25, no. 5 (1954): 676–77, doi:10.1063/1.1721711. 29 Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, 303. 30 Perlin, 306. 31 A PV module is colloquially known as a solar panel, although that technically refers to a small group of modules connected together. 32 Teodor K. Todorov et al, “Ultrathin High Band Gap Solar Cells with Improved Efficiencies from the World’s Oldest Photovoltaic Material,” Nature Communications 8, no. 1 (December 2017): 682, doi:10.1038/s41467-017-00582-9. 33 Charles E. Fritts, “On the Fritts Selenium Cells and Batteries,” Journal of the Franklin Institute 119, no. 3, (1885): 221–32, https://doi-org.proxy.library.nyu. edu/10.1016/0016-0032(85)90426-0. 34 Fritts, 221–32. 35 Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, 311. 36 “Vast Power of the Sun is Tapped By Battery Using Sand Ingredient,” The New York Times, April 26, 1954, https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1954/04/26/83752409. html?pageNumber=1. 37 Waldemar Kaempffert, “Silicon ‘Battery’ Represents a New Approach in Long Efforts to Harness Sun’s Power,” The New York Times, May 2, 1954, https://timesmachine. nytimes.com/timesmachine/1954/05/02/84119255.html?pageNumber=180. 38 Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, 317. 39 $286 in 1954 translates to roughly $2,777.07 in 2020 dollars. All inflation adjustments throughout the book use the US Bureau of Labor Statistics Consumer Price Index Inflation Calculator for November 2020, https://www.bls.gov/data/inflation_calculator.htm. 40 D. M. Chapin, C. S. Fuller, and G. L. Pearson, “A New Silicon P-n Junction Photocell for Converting Solar Radiation into Electrical Power,” 676–77. 41 Dwight D. Eisenhower, “Atoms for Peace,” December 8, 1953, https://www.iaea.org/ about/history/atoms-for-peace-speech. 42 Green, Constance McLaughlin and Milton Lomask. “NASA, Vanguard—A History” NASA, 1970, https://history.nasa.gov/SP-4202.pdf. 43 William L. R. Rice, “Solar Energy and Congress,” Solar Energy 19, no. 6 (January 1977): 631–41, doi:10.1016/0038-092X(77)90023-8. 44 Peter Fairley, “Can Japan Recapture Its Solar Power?” MIT Technology Review 118, no. 1 (January 2015): 28-35. 45 William L. R. Rice, “Solar Energy and Congress,” 631–41. 46 Geoffrey Jones and Loubna Bouamane, “‘Power from Sunshine’: A Business History of Solar Energy,” Harvard Business School Working Paper, no. 12–-105 (May 2012), http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:9056763. 47 Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, 332, 48 Patrina Eiffert and Gregory J. Kiss, Building-Integrated Photovoltaic Designs for Commercial and Institutional Structures: A Sourcebook for Architects, (National Renewable Energy Laboratory, 2000). 49 Geoffrey Jones and Loubna Bouamane, “‘Power from Sunshine’: A Business History of Solar Energy.” 50 Patrick Heinstein, Christophe Ballif and Laure-Emmanuelle Perret-Aebi, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): Review, Potentials, Barriers and Myths.” Green 3, no. 2 (2013): 125–56, doi:10.1515/green-2013-0020. 51 Steven J. Strong, “Power Windows.” IEEE Spectrum 33, no. 10 (October 1996): 49–55, doi:10.1109/6.540090.

Solar Power in Context 27 52 Benjamin E. Gaddy, et al. “Venture Capital and Cleantech: The Wrong Model for Energy Innovation,” Energy Policy, vol. 102 (March 2017): 385–95, doi:10.1016/j. enpol.2016.12.035. 53 Peter Fairley, “Can Japan Recapture Its Solar Power?,” 28–35. 54 Geoffrey Jones and Loubna Bouamane, “‘Power from Sunshine’: A Business History of Solar Energy.” 55 “Sunrun Buying Vivint: Unpacking the Biggest Distributed Solar Deal in History,” The Interchange (July 16, 2020), https://www.greentechmedia.com/articles/read/ sunrun-buying-vivint-podcast. 56 A PV cell can also be called a solar cell. 57 The record efficiency values presented are the most recent as of January 4, 2021. These represent state of the art cells in laboratory conditions. If a mass manufactured variant of the cell exists, the efficiency will generally be at least a couple of percentage points lower. 58 Alaa A. F. Husain et al., “A Review of Transparent Solar Photovoltaic Technologies,” Renewable and Sustainable Energy Reviews, vol. 94 (October 2018): 779–91, doi:10.1016/j.rser.2018.06.031. 59 Embodied energy is the sum of all the direct and indirect energy required to produce an object. 60 Trends in Photovoltaic Applications 2019, International Energy Agency (2019), https:// iea-pvps.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/5319-iea-pvps-report-2019-08-lr.pdf. 61 “Best Research-Cell Efficiencies,” National Renewable Energy Laboratory, accessed 1/4/2020, https://www.nrel.gov/pv/assets/pdfs/best-research-cell-efficiencies.20201228.pdf. 62 “Best Research-Cell Efficiencies,” National Renewable Energy Laboratory, accessed 1/4/2020, https://www.nrel.gov/pv/assets/pdfs/best-research-cell-efficiencies.20201228.pdf. 63 Patrina Eiffert and Gregory J. Kiss, Building-Integrated Photovoltaic Designs for Commercial and Institutional Structures: A Sourcebook for Architects. 64 “Best Research-Cell Efficiencies,” National Renewable Energy Laboratory, accessed 1/4/2020, https://www.nrel.gov/pv/assets/pdfs/best-research-cell-efficiencies.20201228. pdf. 65 Flavio Rosa, “Building-Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV) in Historical Buildings: Opportunities and Constraints.” Energies 13, no. 14 (July 2020): 3628, doi:10.3390/ en13143628. 66 Brian O’Regan and Michael Grätzel, “A Low-Cost, High-Efficiency Solar Cell Based on Dye-Sensitized Colloidal TiO2 Films,” Nature 353, no. 6346 (October 1991): 737–40, doi:10.1038/353737a0. 67 Bjørn Jelle, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics: A Concise Description of the Current State of the Art and Possible Research Pathways,” Energies 9, no. 1 (December 2015): 21, doi:10.3390/en9010021. 68 Anthony Leiserowitz, “International Public Opinion, Perception, and Understanding of Global Climate Change,” Yale Program on Climate Change (July 2009). 69 Moira Fagan and Christine Huang, “A look at how people around the world view climate change,” Pew Research Center, April 18, 2019, https://www.pewresearch.org/ fact-tank/2019/04/18/a-look-at-how-people-around-the-world-view-climate-change/. 70 Anthony Leiserowitz et al., “Climate Change in the American Mind: April 2020,” (New Haven: Yale Program on Climate Change Communication, 2020). 71 Cary Funk and Meg Hefferon, “U.S. Public Views on Climate and Energy,” Pew Research Center, November 25, 2019, https://www.pewresearch.org/ science/2019/11/25/u-s-public-views-on-climate-and-energy/. 72 Amol Phadke et al., “The 2035 Report,” Goldman School of Public Policy (2020), https://www.2035report.com/downloads/. 73 IRENA, Renewable Capacity Statistics 2020 (Abu Dhabi: International Renewable Energy Agency, 2020) 74 David Feldman and Robert Margolis, “Q1/Q2 2020 Solar Industry Update,” National Renewable Energy Laboratory (September 1, 2020). 75 IEA, World Energy Outlook 2020 (Paris: IEA, 2020), https://www.iea.org/reports/ world-energy-outlook-2020.

2

Defining Photovoltaic Art and Design

The aesthetics of PV solar power is a broad and interdisciplinary field. It spans everything from the look of an individual solar cell, to wearable electronics with integrated PV cells, to abstract sound art installations that fluctuate based on a solar panel’s output, and much more. In part because of its broad nature, there have been few attempts to understand the breadth of design methodologies employed across the field. Even among accomplished practitioners within many of the niche sub-disciplines, there is little awareness of the broader context in which they are working. Complicating both the task of contextualizing the medium and attempts at defining its design attributes are the variety of different motivations and conceptual approaches that have emerged, each with varying takes on what solar power enables both technically and artistically. The range of approaches to PV aesthetics has made it difficult to define the space. There are two top level distinctions for inclusion in this history. First, to what extent does the project incorporate PV solar power? The main criterion for considering a work within the history of PV media is that the PV cells need to be functional. The works that are described in this book all incorporate PV cells that produce electricity to run a load or are active parts of an electrical circuit, like a sensor. It’s very common in this field to come across works that have been poorly documented and the functionality of the PV elements is occasionally ambiguous. The pervasiveness of the ambiguous role of PV in a given project is worth noting as a contributing factor in making reliable historic and technical knowledge of this space hard to assemble. Even though they are not included here, projects that incorporate non-functioning solar modules are potentially relevant to consider when looking at the role art objects can play in other important aspects of environmental sustainability, like upcycling. Similarly, speculative PV projects are not included here. Precisely due to their speculative nature, theoretical or fictional PV projects encompass a huge range of aesthetics. This space includes real sculptures with physical elements meant to stand in for future technologies that are not currently viable, architectural proposals of questionable feasibility, media that feature imaginary PV technologies, as well as projects in the solarpunk genre. Speculative PV projects, like other speculative mediums such as science fiction, can illuminate the relationship a society has to a given technology and provide cultural insight. However, purely speculative and ornamental projects do not have to contend with the same technical and economic realities that functional projects encounter, and, consequently, have a very different history.

Defining Photovoltaic Art and Design 29 The second distinction in determining what works to cover is whether the project can be categorized as art or design. There are many ways to define solar power art and, hopefully, readers of this book and future practitioners will push its boundaries even further with new interpretations. In general, PV solar power artwork can be defined as artwork that satisfies one or more of the following conditions: • • • • •

Artwork that is powered by PV solar power. Artwork that explores PV as sculptural material or design elements, while still functioning. Artwork that uses PV as a sensor or trigger to generate further aesthetic outcomes, including incorporating data collection from a PV system into the artwork. Artwork that derives its meaning from or is recontextualized through incorporating solar power. Artwork that explores solar power as metaphor, especially in relation to the defining characteristics of PV such as: • • • • • • •

Power Precariousness Variability Autonomy Energetic transformations Time-keeping and natural systems Sustainability and resiliency

When looking at how art makes use of PV, a central consideration is if it is using it as merely a power supply, which can still be interesting, or if it is engaging with the defining attributes of the materials and its affordances. In other words: to what extent is the work exploring the poetics of PV? Again, in this specific historical context, the focus is on functional applications, so anything that falls into one of these categories would still need to involve functional PV components in some way, though they do not necessarily need to be seen or directly experienced by the viewer. Design, as I’m using the term here, refers to the aesthetic or user experience sense of the word, rather than the typical scientific or engineering use. This use of PV design in an aesthetic context still takes into account many technical engineering aspects, but it is distinct from an understanding of design as purely technical and for the purposes of optimization; the latter is used in much of the academic and all of the engineering literature on this topic. Traditional engineering uses of PV design would include calculating sun exposure and sizing the hardware components to ensure they are compatible. The design priorities an engineer would consider in the context of a traditional PV system relate to aspects like maximizing the power output or increasing the financial return on the investment. While these hardware considerations are important in all PV applications, including art and design, the priorities of the designer in an aesthetic context may vary greatly. Importantly, power optimization is not necessarily of primary importance to a creative designer, who might prioritize qualities like accessibility, user experience, cultural value, or hardware integration. One primary distinction for design projects is between applied PV and integrated PV. Applied PV uses PV components in their traditional form, typically attached as an add on and not a core part of the design of a structure or device. Integrated

30  Part I PV uses PV components holistically and as central to a given design. Integrated PV elements are often multifunctional as well. In general, not many applied PV design projects have been included in this book, because there is already significant literature on the subject, and in most cases it is merely attaching an existing technology to an object with minimal non-technical design considerations. While most recent mass-produced consumer product design is outside of the scope of this book, it is historically significant to consider the volume and accessibility of mass-produced PV powered consumer devices in relation to economics and the public perception of sustainable energy technologies. An additional criterion used to gauge a project’s historical significance is whether the object is an early example of its type, like the first solar powered radios. If the project demonstrates a novel or experimental approach to incorporating PV it would merit inclusion as well. A third qualification would be if it is a particularly strong or clear example of that medium. The final criterion for inclusion is if the object has a unique cultural context worth considering. Because the work that is covered in this space is so broad, it is hard to define all of the potential design considerations that go into the development of these projects. Even so, it is worth attempting because it will allow us to understand the relationships between these devices and get a better understanding of the field as a whole. Domain-specific considerations, like the way fabric should drape for a wearables project, will always need to be considered. However, there are six prominent features of PV design that are worth mentioning: aesthetics, environmental context, engineering specifications, system behavior, human behavior, and economic impact. Depending on how they are implemented, aspects of these features would overlap or influence one another in some way. Aesthetics in the traditional sense of the word cover the elements of a project that produce an affective response on the user, such as the look, feel, and sound of a project. This category also covers the meaning behind the work, (i.e. what is it communicating), as well as audience perception and emotional impact of these expressive elements. In addition to the impact of the project on the user, the philosophy and intention of the creator falls under this category. Lastly, aesthetic considerations also look at the affordances of a particular approach. For example, the aesthetic of upcycling may lend itself to objects with a particular scrappy look. Environmental considerations that impact the amount of light the object receives is critical to any solar power design. For projects that rely on natural light, the exposure to sunlight (called insolation) is determined by latitude, time of day, time of year, obstructions, and weather. While many of these elements are less of a factor when relying on only artificial lighting, the specific type of lighting and other environmental rhythms may be important considerations. The orientation of PV components in these environments is determined by tilt and azimuth.1 The exact position depends on what the designers are trying to optimize for, which could be ensuring adequate energy production at the darkest times of year, greatest economic return, or interesting aesthetic outcomes. Some of the techniques of passive solar power design can also be applied to indoor projects that rely on natural lighting. The technical specifications of hardware and circuit designs are important in understanding a project’s possibilities and limitations, and vary widely depending on scale and context. For small scale circuits that range from a couple hundred watts to as little as a few miliwatts, there are three common designs that can be

Defining Photovoltaic Art and Design 31 considered top level descriptors: direct drive, which has no power conditioning or storage capabilities; short-term energy storage that may or may not include power conditioning; and, long-term energy storage with batteries. More detailed descriptions include specific battery chemistries, and circuit components, among other elements. For larger systems, a top-level description would be whether it was on-grid or off-grid system. Most art and design applications are off-grid. The main exceptions to this are building integrated PV designs and aesthetic interventions in infrastructure, like solar farms and street lights. More detailed descriptors could address the mounting style or system components. For practitioners, technical specifications also impact production logistics, not to mention safety from electrical hazards. From a historical perspective, understanding the technical specifications can also help identify how novel the application of that particular technology is. System behavior is primarily determined by a combination of environmental considerations and technical specifications. In almost all traditional applications of solar power, the goal for the system behavior is dependability. For traditional off-grid systems, this means determining your power needs and sizing a system to be able to provide that much power plus additional backup power, known as autonomy, if you have a few consecutive cloudy days. For an on-grid system, this means understanding how much power you need to generate in order to sell it back to the grid for the system to be considered a sound investment. In a creative context, dependability and predictability are not necessarily the main concerns. In some cases they may actually be the opposite of what is wanted, if randomness and variability will lead to more interesting aesthetic outcomes. Human behavior is a relevant component of all energy systems design, but especially in regard to solar power, which is intermittent and not always available in the ways we have come to expect grid power to be. This requires the designer to ask whether the device needs the user to change their behavior for it to operate as intended, or if it can be used with little consideration of its power demands. User experience design and understanding how a device is actually used in the real world is an essential aspect of this criterion. If a jacket has solar cells mounted on the front and is sized to charge a particular battery in 30 minutes, but the user walks to work in the morning with their back to the sun, from east to west, it will limit the power that is produced and it will take much more than 30 minutes to generate the power that is needed. Users expect things to work, but the concern that a project “has to work” is deceptively simple. As important as it is that a project is technically working, with PV, in particular, you also have to contend with the perception of it working. If the system didn’t receive a lot of sun that day, perhaps because it was raining, it might be technically working fine, but a user who doesn’t understand the impact of clouds on the system might perceive it as not working. Economic impact, particularly in the context of product integrated PV and grid tied systems, is important because of its practical implications, as well as its effect on how the public perceives sustainable energy. The volume of artists and designers working with PV is inversely correlated to the price of PV. The impacts of economics on design considerations are numerous. Not only do cheaper material prices enable the completed systems and devices to be more affordable to the end user, but they enable more prototyping and experimentation for designers and artists. Economics is one of the primary factors in determining how accessible

32  Part I a system or device is. Depending on the context, this can be important for the success of a project, especially when dealing with vulnerable communities, as in the context of disaster relief. Developing a framework for understanding, contextualizing, and critiquing PV art and design is a crucial aspect of growing the field as a whole. By identifying and articulating both the conceptual and technical possibilities, the field can continue to evolve and become more accessible to non-experts and emerging practitioners. This framework will allow us to understand the history of the medium in greater detail.

Note 1 Azimuth is the horizontal angle, i.e. compass bearing.

Part II

3

Early PV Design

When first invented, the solar cell represented an exciting future powered by the sun, but this excitement was short-lived. The high price of solar cells, the accessibility of fossil fuels, and the political value of nuclear energy made it difficult for this new industry to become established. As time progressed, scientific advances improved efficiency and engineering advances in manufacturing allowed the technology to become significantly more practical, scalable, and affordable. The 20th century was a period of significant experimentation as the PV industry sought to establish a market for itself. By the end of this period, most major areas of the PV design field had at least started to be explored.

Solar Spectacles and the Solar Do-Nothing Machine The history of solar power design has been marked by bold, sometimes unfounded claims, and awe inspiring displays. The initial demonstrations of PV in 1954 generated excitement through visceral displays of media. The solar-powered radio and telephone that transmitted voice and music and the spinning miniature Ferris wheel made the potential value of PV clear. The inventors created other solar demonstration toys as well, like a solar powered motor that would lift a 4 ounce weight when a lamp above it was turned on.1 Overly optimistic and headline grabbing predictions of the potential uses of solar power have existed throughout its entire history, dating back hundreds of years. Early predictions for solar powered consumer devices that would potentially be common by 1960, like toasters and mixers, were made by Dr. Mária Telkes, an influential solar thermal innovator. While there is some ambiguity about whether she was referring to PV solar energy or solar thermal, neither came to pass.2 Besides Bell Labs, other companies sought to use solar power to generate excitement about their businesses as well. In 1955, General Motors (GM) created a 15 inch replica of a car with 12 selenium cells mounted on top, called the Sunmobile.3 In August of that year, the Sunmobile was exhibited at the GM Powerama show in Chicago, an event largely focused on exhibiting examples of diesel and gas power. Beginning in 1956, the Sunmobile was included in GM’s Previews of Progress show, a touring 2-person show demonstrating new technologies and scientific advances.4 Perhaps the most attention grabbing demonstration of solar energy at this time was Ray and Charles Eames’ Solar Do-Nothing Machine (1957). (Figure 3.1) The work is a playful abstract exploration of solar energy. It stands out as being a particularly unique piece for its time. Solar cells were only a few years old and were just about to go into space on the NASA satellite Vanguard I. They were prohibitively expensive and only used for small low-energy devices, like radios, or big budget high-tech

36  Part II

Figure 3.1 Charles Eames and Ray Eames, Solar Do-Nothing Machine (1957). Ⓒ Eames Office LLC (eamesoffice.com).

applications, like satellites. The cost would have been prohibitively expensive for most designers, but the Eames’ machine was a commission from the Aluminum Company of America (ALCOA). From 1956 to 1960, ALCOA had a program called Forecast, which sought to demonstrate the potential uses of aluminum and inspire viewers about the possibilities of an aluminum future. They commissioned twenty-two preeminent designers to create one-off objects utilizing aluminum including home furnishings, textiles, architectural structures, and playthings.5 The results of the commissions were photographed and used in ALCOA advertisements. One of these projects was the Solar Do-Nothing Machine. The kinetic solar-powered aluminum toy was presented to the public in an ad in 1958.6 Ray Eames and Charles Eames are two of the most well-known American postwar modernist designers. Ray was trained as an abstract painter, while Charles’ background was in architecture. The couple founded the Eames Office and applied their particular aesthetic to a wide range of subjects including furniture, industrial products, interior design, architecture, exhibition design, toys, graphic design, information design, and movies. Their work is known for its combination of abstract art, craft, industrial standardization, and science. The Eameses adhered to a modernist school of thought that equated modern design with social reforms, such as democratizing access to good design and merging science and culture.7

Early PV Design 37 Their work is seen as emblematic of a particular strain of American idealism and materialism that emerged in the aftermath of WW2 and remained popular up to the end of the 60s.8 The Solar Do-Nothing Machine had two main elements: a mechanical toy and a small concentrated PV solar array. The toy features brightly colored circles, stars, ellipses, spirals, pinwheels, and other geometric elements mounted on top of a deck, all of which was made from aluminum. The shapes spin and oscillate at varying rates, through a combination of pulleys and levers, which are driven by a few motors powered by the solar cells. The toy is roughly two cubic feet. The solar array, which is about half as large as the mechanical toy, consists of eight mirrored strips, positioned in a concave semi-circle, that reflect light on a row of solar cells lined up vertically in the center of the device.9 The Eameses believed that toys were more than just simple play things, and can subtly convey complex ideas. In keeping with this belief, the Solar Do-Nothing Machine relies on the spectacle of doing nothing except for spinning colorful pieces of metal to promote a particular idea of American ingenuity. The piece is less concerned with accomplishing something physically useful, and more concerned with succeeding in its mission to get Americans excited about an energy secure future, or at least to conflate aluminum manufacturing with American scientific achievements and prosperity. As Life magazine wrote, in 1958, “The toy has no use and is not for sale, but the Aluminum Company of America is sending it on tour as an enchanting harbinger of more useful sun machines for the future.”10 The device was also emblematic of the role of solar energy in politics and culture at that time. As fossil fuels were in abundance and the political ambitions of the country were tied to other energy sources, like nuclear power, the fledgling solar industry couldn’t accomplish much. The architectural historian Daniel Barber writes, On the one hand, the Eameses’ toy is a concise expression of the place solar power occupied in the expansion of energy infrastructure right after World War II. In the context of the strategic development of a global oil network, of investment in nuclear power, and of a dramatic increase in electrical grid and natural gas pipeline capacity, solar energy was able to do, if not exactly nothing, then certainly very little. On the other hand, the Solar Do-Nothing Machine is symptomatic of… an emergent perspective on the ability of a solar machine, and of ecotechnologies more generally, to do something and, in particular, to contribute to the development of more useful architectures in the future.11 This dual mission of providing both a technical demonstration and an inspiring, seemingly magical experience, has been a consistent theme in PV art and design objects throughout the history of the field.

Consumer Devices Powered by PV Consumer devices with integrated PV were produced as soon as the technology became available. These devices generally fall under the umbrella of product integrated photovoltaics (PIPV). PIPV tends to be under 10 watts, but can be larger depending on the product category.12 The initial devices to be successfully sold were predominantly small radios, but by the end of the 20th century PV consumer devices would be available across a number of different product categories.

38  Part II The high costs of manufacturing PV for most of the 20th century limited its possible uses and it was restricted to some select remote applications and low-power devices. Throughout the history of PV consumer devices, companies have struggled to align PV products with the needs of consumers. User experience has continuously been one of the more challenging areas in this domain. This is particularly true of devices that require the user to adopt new behaviors to successfully engage with the device. Using an energy supply less consistent and dependable than traditional power sources can be a difficult paradigm shift in some cases. Because of this challenge, communicating the capabilities and best practices around solar products is crucial. Consumer products generally come with instructions, which range from simply “Direct toward light source”13 to detailed charts for estimating charge times in varying light conditions. Poorly designed products or simply poor communication about a product’s capabilities and limitations can easily lead to a negative user experience. In 1955, National Fabricated Products Inc. licensed Bell Lab’s solar technology. They planned to begin selling small “half dollar-sized” solar cells for $25 apiece and soon announced that they had over 500 inquiries for their product.14 Hoffman Electronics purchased National Fabricated Products Inc in 195615 and by 1957 had produced a silicon cell that was 10% efficient.16 Their magazine ads from this time depict runway lights and automated weather stations powered by solar. They list “power supplies for portable radios, highway warning lights, navigation aids, and lifetime flashlights,” as well as various military and commercial applications, all as practical uses for solar power.17 Hoffman’s first products included a solar powered radio repeater for the United States Forestry Service, which was in operation by 1958. They would also supply the solar cells used on the Vanguard 1 satellite that same year. Beyond the United States federal government, Hoffman Electronics had trouble finding a significant market for these products. It is unclear exactly how much commercial success they had with these applications, but the high price of PV cells at the time was prohibitively expensive, and their consumer solar business was mostly focused on producing simple toys and small consumer radios. Other companies began producing solar powered radios and toys by the late 1950s as well. A New York Times article on 1957’s hot new toys for Christmas mentioned that “Macy’s has the ‘Solar Radio’ at $11.95.”18 Another company producing consumer radios, Acopian, retailed their small radio for $12.9519,20 (Figure 3.2). Acopian boasted in the instructions for their radio that, “The day will soon arrive when a great variety of your household appliances will be efficiently, and economically powered by that eternal source of energy … the sun. Meanwhile, you can be proud to be among the first to enjoy the benefits of Solar energy while in its very infancy.”21 By at least 1960, International Rectifier Corporation, had begun producing educational electronics kits with solar cells22 (Figure 3.3). Interest in consumer products with integrated PV reemerged in the 1970s as the prices dropped and the efficiencies increased. 23 Solar powered watches and calculators began to be sold at this time, which marked what is often considered to be the beginning of a more mature PV consumer product market. To date, no other solar integrated products have been nearly as successful as watches and calculators in terms of both market saturation and user experience. Advances in low-power electronics in the 1960s and 1970s enabled the power draw of these devices to be minimal enough that small solar cells could sufficiently power them. Japanese companies, which began to develop solar power in the early 1960s, led both of these industries.

Early PV Design 39

Figure 3.2 Acopian Solar Radio (1957). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www. solarmuseum.org).

Figure 3.3  International Rectifier Solar Car Kit (1964). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www.solarmuseum.org).

40  Part II The first prototypes of solar powered watches were created in the early 1970s. The United States watchmaker Uranus produced a prototype in 1971 and Roger W. Riehl, an independent engineer, created the Synchronar 2100 solar watch in 1972.24 Uranus’ watch never became commercially available; however, Riehl’s watch design went on sale in 1974. It was produced by the company Ragen and the base model was initially sold for $500. Other companies to debut solar watches in this era included Nepro Watch in 1975. Seiko began selling a solar powered watch in 1978, eight years after they filed their first solar watch patent. 25 Angèle Reinders, one of the leading researchers of PIPV, has documented the transition of solar powered watches. They moved from new and exciting in the 1970s and 1980s, to dependable and convenient in the 1990s, to mundane and no longer even worth noting in advertisements today. The appeal of solar watches for consumers was strong enough that a number of non-solar powered knock-off watches, with the text “solar look” on the face, appeared in the late 1980s.26 Other researchers have divided the industry into two separate eras, based on an analysis of patents, marketing material, and trade statistics.27 First, from 1970 through 1995, the industry worked to develop more reliable and stable products, where the solar cell could successfully power the watch. In the 2nd era, solar watch research was focused on developing other aspects of the device to improve the overall performance. The two leaders of the global industry, Seiko and Citizen used different strategies to present these innovations to the public. Seiko, the market leader from 1970 through 1995, promoted the watches as a technological breakthrough. Citizen, which began to lead the market in 1995, focused on the marketing potential of solar power, launching a line called “Eco-Drive” in 1995. This shift reflects the public’s perception of PV technologies at these various points in time.28 The challenge of managing user expectations for integrated solar technologies has long plagued designers and businesses. This challenge is particularly acute in regards to wearable technologies. Contemporary Seiko watches come with instructions for charging that includes a table indicating minimum charging times in different light conditions and expected run-times. This guide gives the user insight into what to expect from their watch. The low power consumption of a watch mitigates most challenges a user might face. Contemporary Seiko watches are typically charged enough for a full day of operation in as little as 1 or 2 minutes in direct sunlight and can be charged enough for months of operation in a matter of hours.29 Very few solar powered products are capable of such a simple charging regimen that would be as frictionless to the user. The solar powered calculator is one of the most ubiquitous solar powered consumer devices of all time. Sharp released the EL-8026 “Sun Man” calculator in 1976.30 This featured solar cells that were mounted on the back of the device and charged internal batteries. The Teal Photon, released in 1978 by Teal Industries, was the first batteryless calculator.31 The device retailed for $39.95 in the United States.32 One publication announced the arrival of the solar powered calculator sarcastically, writing, “The concerned environmentalist can now calculate the downfall of society without eating into the world’s resources in the process.”33 By the early 1980s, other companies, including Sanyo and Texas Instruments, started producing their own versions of the PV calculator, which were more capable of working in low-light. Over the course of the 1980s, solar powered calculators would become incredibly commonplace (Figure 3.4). By the early 1980s, other solar powered consumer electronics started to be produced by Japanese companies and distributed throughout North America and Europe. Bandai Electronics released a series of portable handheld solar powered

Early PV Design 41

Figure 3.4 Sharp EL 326S Solar Calculator (1985). Courtesy of Museum of Solar Energy (www.solarmuseum.org).

gaming consoles, likely the first solar powered electronic gaming devices (Figure 3.5). Each device featured one simple video game. The devices were small clam-shell style boxes that would open up. Inside, a small solar cell was mounted on the top half. A reflective LCD screen and buttons were on the bottom half. All of the solar powered games in this series had two scenes that could be played. There were six games in the original series34 and four in the follow up series.35 With the exception of one game, which may have been sold as early as 1981, all of these games were released in 1982. Despite having some attention grabbing names, like Terror House and Airport Panic, none of these games were particularly interesting. They all appear to be fairly simple and repetitive. One reviewer, writing in 2008, reminiscing about his time playing Escape from the Devil’s Doom, wrote, “This is a middle-aged geek remembering how awful this little game was. Repetitive, Brainless, Suspect religious themes. Man, I played this game for hours when I was a bored kid.”36 The simplistic and repetitive game design was due to limitations in the display and processor technology available at the time and necessary to keep the games cheap. The graphics and animation were predetermined by the design of the LCD screen, which limited its capabilities. The addition of solar power made it so that there weren’t batteries that needed to be replaced, but it didn’t impact the game design. Very similar style games that used batteries or AC adapters were common during this time and the games would not have been any different without solar power.37 The Sony Walkman, originally released in 1979, is one of the most iconic and successful consumer devices of the 20th century. In 1987, Sony released the Solar Walkman WM-F107. The waterproof Walkman included both a cassette tape player and AM/FM radio. The solar cell was only capable of powering the radio when in

42  Part II

Figure 3.5 Solar powered handheld game by Bandai (1982). Courtesy of Rik Morgan of www.handheldmuseum.com.

direct sunlight, and the mechanical tape player required more energy than the solar cell alone could provide. In order to power the tape player, it required recharging the internal battery with the solar cells first. One particularly noteworthy feature was the indicator LED, which alerted the user to when it was in enough sunlight to be charging the battery or playing the radio. The device also came with an additional battery holder, for a single AA battery, that could be attached when the battery was depleted and the solar was insufficient. The product was more expensive than the average Walkman and only produced in a limited run.38 Sony also released a couple of solar battery chargers during the 1980s as well. By the mid-1980s, solar powered tchotchkes had become common in the US. News articles on the solar industry from this time list common solar products like music boxes, table-top kinetic sculptures, toy vehicles, and hats with a fan attached. More practical products like solar powered garden lights and attic fans were also increasingly common.39 As has continuously been the case throughout the history of solar power, a number of more ambitious and headline grabbing device integrated PV products were reportedly being prototyped at that time, like picnic-cooler sized portable refrigeration units, but most of these devices were never actually sold. The PIPV market was seen by some as beneficial to the greater solar industry. In the mid-1980s, the Reagan administration had decreased support for the PV industry significantly and fuel prices had dropped well below their high point in 1980.40 Without government support American companies were struggling to compete with manufacturers elsewhere. Since PV price is hugely dependent on the scale of the industry, some in the industry thought the consumer market would be important in this regard.

Early PV Design 43 Not only would it educate consumers about the potential of solar and generate revenue, but it would lead to increased manufacturing efficiencies, cheaper solar cells, and speed up larger scale adoption.41 Despite this optimistic outlook about the potential value of this sector, it is unclear if these smaller applications had any significant impact in dropping manufacturing prices. In the 1990s, the market for small solar integrated products continued to grow slowly, but as the market for residential and utility scale solar started to expand these more lucrative opportunities shifted the focus away from consumer devices. Increases in the energy efficiency of fluorescent and LED lighting in the mid-1990s increased the capacity for solar powered lights.42 PV powered lanterns for developing countries began to appear around this time as well. These were often simply battery powered lanterns wired to a separate PV module and not an integrated PV product.43

Building Integrated Photovoltaics Building integrated PV (BIPV) encompasses PV systems that are architecturally relevant, meaning that they serve as a core component of a structure. There are a number of differing definitions of BIPV that researchers, engineers, architects, installers, regulators and other stakeholders have adopted, in part, depending on the scope of their work or their particular interests. All of the various definitions incorporate some variation of at least one of these three premises. First, PV modules must be permanent parts of the building envelope.44 The building envelope is generally understood to include any building element that separates the interior of a structure from the exterior. It may include the roof, exterior walls, windows, doors, insulation, cladding, and other elements. Second, PV components must be multifunctional. For some, this requires them to be essential building components that replace other construction materials.45 In addition to producing electricity and acting as a primary construction material, by the end of the 1990s the possible ancillary functions of BIPV could include thermal energy production, daylighting, shading, noise reduction, privacy, and fire protection. Third, BIPV materials add aesthetic value by either driving design decisions, complementing the building’s aesthetic, or blending into existing materials and aesthetic elements.46 In contrast to building applied PV (BAPV), which can be installed as an afterthought, the engineering, design, and financial implications of BIPV must be taken into account at the outset of the building design process. Experiments with BIPV have been around since PV started being attached to buildings in the early 70s, but commercially available BIPV products only began to become more widely available in the early 90s. In the last few decades of the 20th century, BIPV research and development was primarily concentrated in Europe, the United States, Japan, and Australia. Since then, the BIPV market has expanded around the world. However, it is still considered a niche market and has yet to fully live up to its hype. While it has continued to captivate the imaginations of the public and a subset of practitioners, it still faces many hurdles. Uses of BIPV can generally be classified as either a facade or roof system, and there are many examples of buildings that incorporate PV into both. By the end of the 90s, it could be found integrated into numerous architectural elements, including curtain wall facades, full facade systems, spandrel panels, atrium systems, windows, awning and shading systems, in-roof systems, full roof systems, metal standing seam products, skylights, tiles, shingles, and tensile structures. There were diverse types

44  Part II of modules being used in these applications, including ones with different cell types, varying levels of transparency and translucency, insulation characteristics, colors, shapes, mounting systems, and with and without frames. In addition to its many possible functions and economic value, using less material has added environmental benefits, such as decreasing the embodied carbon of the building. Similarly to embodied energy, embodied carbon is a measure of all the greenhouse gases, predominantly carbon dioxide, that are emitted over the entire life cycle of a building. This is a particularly important metric for buildings, which consume huge amounts of energy and expel huge amounts of greenhouse gases over the entire course of their lifecycle. Possibly the first example of BIPV was developed by the Institute of Energy Conversion at the University of Delaware in 1973. The house, known as Solar One, was an experimental structure that mixed PV solar power, solar thermal, and passive solar architectural design. The PV modules that were integrated into the roof used cadmium sulfide/copper sulfide thin film cells. Heat was collected from the back of the solar modules and stored in molten salts in order to warm the structure in winter. Solar One was unoccupied and was built in order to study these systems in action and collect data on their effectiveness.47 The first BIPV system integrated into an occupied residential house was completed in January 1981.48 The Carlisle House, in Carlisle, Massachusetts, was designed by Solar Design Associates, and sought to test if the 7.3 kW PV system could meet the actual energy demands of the residents and allow them to live comfortably all year round. It’s considered to be the first net-zero energy house and the first grid-tied residential PV structure. As with Solar One, it incorporated passive solar techniques into its design, which minimized the amount of electrical power necessary for the occupants to live in it comfortably. The project was funded by MIT and the US Department of Energy.49 The PV modules were part of the roof system on the southern side of the house, replacing what might otherwise have been tiles or shingles. Fullroof and in-roof systems replace traditional roofing materials, but are not necessarily meant to visually replicate them. A small area of the southern roof was also used for an integrated solar thermal water heating system. In the 1990s, BIPV became commercially available and expanded rapidly. The first building with a BIPV facade is generally credited to a commercial office building in Aachen, Germany, constructed in 1991.50 As the BIPV industry grew and designs became more involved, a variety of engineering innovations emerged to enable these aestheticized applications while ensuring they met their energy production goals. Rather than only prioritizing efficiency, BIPV installations must balance aesthetics and a number of other concerns depending on their various possible functions. Glass products, referred to as architectural glazing within the industry, became one of the most prominent applications of BIPV, particularly in non-residential buildings. Standard PV modules are in similar rectangular shapes as many architectural glazing elements. This made it relatively easy for PV manufacturers to produce modules that conformed to the dimensions of commonly used traditional glazing products. This enabled PV replacements for glass to be relatively easy to install, because they utilized similar materials and skillsets. Irregular shapes could also be produced as needed. The primary approach to transparency in this time period was to encapsulate PV cells between two sheets of transparent glass in order to let light pass through the areas between and around the cells. These types of modules could use any type of PV cell. The amount of cells and their spacing would determine the level of transparency

Early PV Design 45 (Figure 3.6). Another method, which was less common during this time, was the use of translucent thin film cells. This produced the effect of tinted glass that would let a small amount of light pass through. The amount of translucency was determined by the thickness of the PV material, which negatively impacted the efficiency.51 Both of these approaches could also be combined with scoring or perforating the cells in various patterns. In general, greater transparency leads to less energy production.

Figure 3.6  Philippe Samyn and Partners, Fire Station Houten (1998–2000). Semi-transparent PV facade. Courtesy Philippe Samyn and Partners.

46  Part II Traditionally, PV arrays need to use identical PV modules that all receive equal and simultaneous amounts of solar insolation or risk decreasing efficiencies and potentially introducing electrical hazards. This limited the range of aesthetic possibilities with BIPV, because modules couldn’t be mixed and matched as needed. It can be at odds with truly integrating it into the building and successfully fulfilling its multifunctional goals. There are a variety of reasons why it may be necessary to use modules with different characteristics. These can include needing to create a uniform surface with PV modules to cover a particular face from edge to edge, different insolation considerations for surfaces oriented in different directions or impacted by different levels of shading, and using different module types for aesthetic reasons. These concerns were greater when dealing with buildings with complex architectural forms with more surface orientations and geometries to account for. A number of methods emerged to deal with this challenge. A common method for producing a uniform surface is to use cheaper replica dummy modules, in the shape needed, to fill in the gaps. For dealing with complex shading considerations or different types of modules string inverters, micro-inverters, or power optimizers can be used. These devices allow the individual modules or strings to operate at maximum efficiency and be, to varying degrees, electrically separated from one another, so underperforming modules in a shadowy area or different types of modules don’t negatively impact the others. An interesting example of a BIPV installation that used different types of semi-transparent PV modules was the Academy Mont-Cenis, in Herne, Germany, constructed in 1999. This massive 1 megawatt installation was made up of about 3,180 modules that covered the roof and southwest facade. This made it the largest BIPV installation in the world at that time.52 In order to provide varying levels of sunlight and shade simultaneously, the installation used modules with differing levels of transparency, resulting in a pattern reminiscent of clouds in the sky. To produce this effect, six distinct types of modules were used. Each type had a different number of PV cells encapsulated between the two sheets of glass, with varying degrees of spacing. This system used nearly 600 string inverters to connect the individual strings and account for this variation.53 Because monocrystalline, polycrystalline, and thin film silicon were the predominant cell types used during this time, color was generally restricted to the blue tones of rigid silicon cells and the reddish-browns of thin-film amorphous silicon. While not common, gold, green, and magenta colored PV cells were used during this time as well, but they were less efficient and needed to be produced custom.54 While the color of the cells was generally prescribed by the technology being employed, the color of the module components could be varied. The back sheet of the modules could be any opaque or semi-transparent color. When the backsheet was matched to the color of the cell, it could create the impression of a uniform surface. Over the course of the 90s, both practitioners and the general public were becoming increasingly aware of BIPV materials and techniques. One of the first examples of BIPV being presented to the public in an exhibition context was in June 1998. The Smithsonian Institute’s Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum in New York City held the exhibition Under the Sun: An Outdoor Exhibition of Light. The exhibition, which received funding from the Department of Energy and BP Solar, focused on the future of energy. 55 The show travelled to Washington D.C. and a few other US cities the following year. It included a range of devices that made use of the sun, beyond just PV technologies. Some of these demonstrations included sundials;

Early PV Design 47 PV powered fountain, lawn mower, and computer; a duplicate of the Vanguard I satellite; and two PV structures. One structure was created by the architecture firm Kiss + Cathcart and used thin-film PV modules sandwiched between panes of glass for structure. 56 The other structure, by FTL Design Engineering, was a 32 foot tall canopy with flexible thin-film PV modules integrated into the textile structure.57 The 1st major commercial BIPV installation in the United States, a 48-story office tower located at 4 Times Square in New York City, was completed in 1999. The building used 6% efficient amorphous silicon cells. PV glazings were integrated into the curtain wall on the south and east facades, between the 37th and 43rd floors. The 14 kW installation was capable of producing 13,800 kWh per year. This project was unique in its urban location and the scale for a commercial project. The direct replacement of four different shapes of glass spandrel panels with PV modules of equivalent size made the installation particularly economical.58 One of the primary design considerations for any PV installation is module orientation. With BAPV, the modules are generally oriented as close to the optimal angle as possible to maximize energy production or economic returns. In contrast, BIPV is often restricted to the building surface’s angles. Vertical building facades, like large towers, can be particularly challenging, because at most latitudes vertical mounted modules don’t receive direct sunlight and have reduced output. However, at latitudes further away from the equator in both the northern and southern hemispheres the sun is at a lower angle relative to the face of the modules. In these locations, vertical installations may perform at an acceptable level. 59 While less efficient than monocrystalline or polycrystalline, amorphous thin film silicon is cheaper and works better in low and indirect light conditions. The scale and complexity of BIPV installations increased dramatically over the course of the 1990s. By the year 2000, the potential value and range of applications for BIPV had become widely acknowledged in the PV industry, although it would remain an open question as to whether it could live up to its hype. It had also become a common topic at industry conferences and an increasing number of publications were devoted to it.60 Many challenges still faced the BIPV industry at the turn of the century (and still do today). The high upfront cost was one of the primary challenges. The financial benefits of BIPV could only be considered once the cost of the traditional material that was being replaced was deducted, as well as any other savings stemming from its multi-functionality. As early as the mid-1990s, in some contexts BIPV costs could be similar to the material it was replacing.61 This would depend on the type of building, scale of the installation, PV components, electricity rates, and material being replaced. Overall, BIPV had not become cost competitive by the year 2000. Residential BIPV installations were mostly driven by homeowners who were willing to pay a premium for a nicer looking solar powered home. Other challenges for BIPV included lack of hardware standardization, the perception that it limits architects’ design choices, lack of education for architects and installers, non-unified building codes that didn’t explicitly address BIPV, integration into the traditional construction industry, concerns over maintenance, and lower efficiencies for BIPV due to heat. Comparable advances in the aesthetics of ground-mounted PV and BAPV during this time were minimal. There are only a few examples of aesthetic interventions in these types of systems. Solar Sunflowers, a field of 36 1kw ground mounted two-axis

48  Part II tracking systems, was completed in 1998.62 Each array is in a shape reminiscent of a sunflower and, like a sunflower, follows the position of the sun across the sky over the course of the day. Sunflower imagery is very common for PV systems, particularly if they have tracking elements.63 While this wasn’t the first PV installation to reference the look of a sunflower, it is notable for its scale.

PV Powered Vehicles Solar powered vehicles present novel challenges that no other area of PV design has to contend with. These machines must balance energy production with energy consumption, in significantly more complex ways than the typical PV installation. The design of the array directly influences a variety of forces impacting the vehicle and the energy required to propel it. Like a sailboat, these environmentally dependent vehicles must use natural patterns and forces to their advantage. The relationship between the direction of travel, orientation of solar cells, and the position of the sun proved crucial for many early prototypes that had limited capacities and efficiencies. For most of the 20th century, solar propelled air, land, and sea based vehicles remained in the experimental stage. Advances were driven by wealthy adventurers’ intent on setting world records and generating public spectacles to demonstrate the possibilities of solar power, university research teams funded by corporate sponsors, and experiments in the military and aerospace industries. Competitions and the allure of record setting have played a key role in the development of solar propelled vehicles. Air The first solar powered airplane flight occurred on November 4, 1974 when two brothers, Roland and Robert Boucher, launched the remotely controlled, unmanned Sunrise plane over the Mojave Desert in California.64 In 1970, the Bouchers set out to develop an alternative to the combustion engine for radio controlled model planes and small drone aircraft.65 By 1972, their electric planes had set a number of world records and they conducted their first drone demonstration for the US Defense Department’s Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA). The Boucher’s company Astro Flight was then contracted to develop a battlefield surveillance drone. The electric drone they built was stealthy, but only had a one hour flight time and 75 mile range. After a successful demonstration in 1973, the government was still skeptical of the possibilities of an electric aircraft due to the energy density of a battery being much worse than that of gasoline. Additionally, an important key difference between a vehicle using a combustion engine and an electric vehicle is that fossil fuel literally gets burned up, decreasing the weight of the vehicle and making it more efficient the longer it travels. Batteries maintain the same weight as they get depleted. The Bouchers were informed that if they could increase their flight times to at least 12 hours, they might be able to sell their planes to the government. To address this, they turned to solar power. Roland came up with a plan to “store the energy in the earth’s gravitational field.”66 They would use solar power generated during the day to climb to a high enough altitude that the plane could glide through the night, without needing electricity. If they could successfully do that, they could theoretically achieve perpetual flight. Sunrise was a high-winged monoproller plane. In order for the plane to take off, a bungee cord tied to a stake in the ground was used to launch it into the air.67

Early PV Design 49 The 27.5lb plane had a wingspan of 32ft. The 400 watt array was mounted on the wings of the plane. The curved surface caused the edges of the cells to be exposed, which increased the airplane’s drag significantly.68 A small battery system was included to power the command and control system. Sunrise flew many successful flights throughout the winter and spring of 1974–75, but eventually got caught in a sandstorm and was damaged. Their experiments were successful enough that DARPA funded the construction of a follow up aircraft, Sunrise II, in 1975 (Figure 3.7). This plane was 22.8 lbs, 14.35 feet long, and had a 32 foot wingspan. The 580 watt array was lighter and composed of 4 separate sets of PV cells that could be wired in either 75 volt 7.5 amp series or 37 volt 15 amp parallel configurations.69 This variable arrangement allowed the motor to be fed increased voltage at high-altitudes for more speed or, in parallel at low-altitudes, could provide more amperage to the motor, and thus more torque.

Figure 3.7  Launch of Sunrise II (1975). Courtesy Robert Boucher.

50  Part II A 24 aH booster battery was included to assist with early morning launches, when the sun was low in the sky. In order to receive enough sun exposure, take-off had to occur with the plane’s back to the sun. Once the plane had climbed to 20,000 ft, the battery was intended to be jettisoned in order to lower the weight. They also devised a simple navigation system that allowed them to use the sun to guide the plane when they lost visual contact with it. This system used four small solar cells, oriented in different directions, as sensors to determine its position. Sunrise II had a number of successful tests over the course of a few months, but was ultimately destroyed when the command and control system failed in flight. The first fully solar powered flight with an onboard human pilot was the Gossamer Penguin, in 1980. The plane was built by Paul MacCready and his company AeroVironment. The project was sponsored by the DuPont Company, in order to draw attention to the possibilities of alternative energy.70 MacCready’s first claim to fame was as the inventor of a human powered airplane in 1977. He developed the machine to win a $100,000 prize, in order to pay off a large debt he owed from co-signing a bad loan. Two years later, his team also completed the first crossing of the English Channel in a human powered plane. The Gossamer Penguin had a 29.1 meter long wingspan and weighed 68–75 kg, depending on the pilot. Unlike the previous planes where the solar array was located on the wings, here the solar array stuck up vertically from the top of the plane. MacCready writes, The fragility and limited controllability of the airplane required flying only early in the day when wind and turbulence were low but sun angle was also low. Therefore it was necessary to have the cells mounted on a panel which could be tilted toward the sun, and only flights headed north or south were feasible.71 The low angle of the sun at that time of day necessitated the seemingly bizarre look of the plane with a nearly vertical PV array. Robert Boucher built the electric motor and transmission and served as an advisor on the project. Boucher also supplied the remaining undamaged solar modules from Sunrise II, which were repurposed for the Gossamer Penguin.72 NASA provided them with additional cells that hadn’t been of high enough quality for their use or the Airforce’s, but were efficient enough for the Gossamer Penguin. In total, the plane had a 541 watt array. As with Sunrise II, the array was divided into 4 subsections, which could be arranged as needed to control the motor. In order for the plane to be able to stay aloft at a slow speed, the total weight of the craft was limited and the pilot had to weigh under 100 lbs. The first successful test flights of the Gossamer Penguin were flown by MacCready’s 13 year old son Marshall, using batteries. His first fully solar powered flight lasted about 30 seconds. Janice Brown, a light weight adult, was the official test pilot and, on August 7, 1980, she successfully flew 3 km, lasting about 14 minutes, with solar power alone (Figure 3.8). For safety reasons, the altitude of the Gossamer Penguin was limited to 5 meters. The following year MacCready’s team built the Solar Challenger, again sponsored by DuPont. This plane was intended to handle longer flights at higher altitudes. Because of this, the designers prioritized pilot safety over weight. On July 7, 1981, the plane, piloted by Stephen Ptacek, completed the first manned solar powered flight across the English Channel (Figure 3.9).

Early PV Design 51

Figure 3.8  Janice Brown flying Gossamer Penguin (1980). Photograph by Don Monroe.

The plane had a wingspan of 14.3 meters and weighed 133kg with a pilot on board. The propeller stuck out in front of the fuselage on a boom. The plane had larger than average wings and stabilizer to provide enough surface area for the 2,500 watt array. The plane was designed to be able to maximize solar incidence at a wider range of sun angles, which made it a little more flexible as far as direction of travel was concerned. Flatter wings minimized problems installing the PV cells. The array was also divided into five discrete sections, however unlike the previous planes; this was mainly for the purpose of setting power levels for taxiing and descent. Power to the motor was mostly regulated by propeller pitch control. The increased speed of this plane also has the added benefit of cooling the cells, producing higher efficiencies. Other experiments in solar planes were also beginning to occur in North America and Europe, starting around 1979.73 For the most part, these planes used solar power for recharging batteries and only minimally for propulsion, but some were able to cruise on solar power alone once at a high enough altitude. Meanwhile, research into solar powered planes for military applications continued to develop. In 1981, the US military employed AeroVironment to explore the possibility of long duration flights above 65,000 feet. This research initially didn’t go far, because of battery limitations. In the early 90s they returned to this project and developed the Pathfinder plane. This plane was initially intended to be used in anti-ballistic missile defense. When the Defense Department stopped funding the project, NASA took it over with the intention of using the plane for long duration environmental sampling and sensing at high altitudes. Over the course of the 1990s, Pathfinder received various modifications and set increasing records for altitude achieved by a solar powered aircraft, eventually reaching a height of 80,201 feet in 1998.74

52  Part II

Figure 3.9  Solar Challenger test flight (1981). Photograph by Don Monroe.

Land One of the earliest attempts at a solar powered vehicle came in 1960. The International Rectifier Corporation, a solar manufacturer interested more in press attention and novelty than any practical vehicle application, attempted to integrate PV into a car. The company mounted a 26 square-foot solar array on top of a 1912 Baker Electric car. The vehicle’s three horse power engine was capable of going as fast as 20 miles per hour and at slower speeds could travel as far as 50 miles on a single charge. At the time, the New York Times reported that to charge the battery enough to drive for one hour, it would require eight to ten hours of direct sunlight. On the day of the demonstration, there wasn’t enough sunlight in Central Park to adequately charge the car’s batteries and they had to be plugged in to the electrical grid.75 Despite the seemingly easier task of driving a car on land than flying a plane, it was only in 1982, that Hans Tholstrup and Larry Perkins, built the first fully solar powered car.76 They drove the car, named Quiet Achiever, 2,800 miles across Australia. They began in Perth and arrived 20 days later in Sydney, on January 7, 1983. Their endeavor was sponsored by BP and they averaged 12 miles per hour. Development of solar cars has mostly been driven by competitions that encouraged innovation, rather than marketable products or government contracts.77 The first solar powered car race, the Tour de Sol, was held in June 1985 in Europe. The race was won by Alpha Real, in partnership with Mercedes Benz. Alpha Real is the same Swiss company that would be instrumental in the expansion of residential rooftop solar a year later. Their fame from winning the widely publicized competition helped them promote their rooftop solar business.78 Tour de Sol ran every year through 1993.

Early PV Design 53 The World Solar Challenge was founded in 1987 by Hans Tholstrup. The race, held every other year in Australia, is considered to be the world championship of long-distance solar car racing. The first World Solar Challenge featured 22 cars, built by teams from the United States, Australia, Japan, Germany, Denmark, Pakistan, and Switzerland. The winning car was the Sunraycer, built by GM in collaboration with AeroVironment. They completed the 1,867 mile journey from Darwin to Adelaide in 44 hours and 54 minutes, averaging 41.6 mph. Competitors in the World Solar Challenge race are typically either teams sponsored by car manufacturers or engineering university teams. Cars in the competition must conform to specific standards for weight and size, and must be able to be legally driven on a highway in Australia. As with all solar powered vehicles, the key design challenge is minimizing various resistances and inefficiencies. The main design considerations of a solar powered car are the array shape, aerodynamics, body construction, suspension design, chassis structure, electrical subsystems, and batteries.79 The primary resistances that impact a car are aerodynamic drag and rolling resistance. Both of these influence speed and drive range. Aerodynamic drag is primarily a factor of the car body design. Rolling resistance is affected by the type of tire, its condition, and the overall weight of the vehicle. Other factors include safety, which is largely reflected in chassis structure and its ability to withstand collisions. This can determine shape, which has an effect on drag, and weight. Maximizing driver comfort through the size of the passenger area and suspension design are also important considerations, but increase resistances In the 1987 race, many of the cars used tracking arrays or curved shapes to maximize solar production, but this increased drag and weight. The Sunraycer team prioritized simplicity, efficiency, and weight. The car had a sleek low curved profile. They calculated that this flatter shape would lead to 10-15% less solar energy per day, but they would more than make up for it without as much drag. Another innovation was to turn the braking system from an energy consuming to energy generating function. Instead of expelling energy to brake with friction, the majority of braking was produced by turning the motor into a generator and feeding power back into the batteries to charge them.80 Following their win in Australia, GM began organizing a North American version of the race, called Sunrayce, in 1990. The race is specifically for university teams. In this competition, there are more limitations placed on competitors, to make the cars cheaper to construct and lower the bar for entry.81 Water Marine applications were an area where off-grid PV systems first gained a commercial foothold, but solar powered boat development lagged behind other types of vehicles. Many of the initial solar powered boats were traditional electric boats, with solar modules added later. The history of solar boating is far less well documented than the histories of solar planes and cars. The first documented solar boat, called Solar Craft I, was built by Alan Freeman, in England, in 1975. He turned to solar boat building after a number of failed attempts at solar powered cars.82 The shape of the hull is one of the leading variables for resistance; however, aerodynamic drag remains a factor.83 The first solar boat competition occurred in July 1988, in Switzerland.84 The following year solar boat races began in Japan. The Japanese event participants were

54  Part II primarily companies, individual inventors, and local universities. A team at Marquette University in Wisconsin built the earliest documented solar powered boat in the US, over the 1990-1991 school year. The Marquette boat was a canoe with a 200 watt PV module, battery, and trolling motor. They began competing with their craft in races in both the United States and Japan in 1992. In 1994, the Marquette team organized Solar Splash, the first international intercollegiate solar boat regatta.85 The event brought together universities from the United States and Japan to compete.86 The initial rules for Solar Splash, which were similar to the rules of previous Japanese competitions, were designed so that boats in the 2 hour endurance race would get roughly half of their power from the 480 watt PV array and half from the 1000 watt hour batteries.87 Part of the motivation for organizing Solar Splash was that the cost of constructing a solar powered boat eligible for competition was significantly cheaper than building a solar powered car that would have been eligible to participate in Sunrayce. Distance records for solar powered boating were also being established at this time. In 1996 an eccentric and ecologically-minded Japanese adventurer, Kenichi Horie, crossed the Pacific, from Ecuador to Tokyo in a solar powered boat. The boat, called Malts Mermaid, was made from recycled beer cans and powered by a 1.5 kW array. He made the 15,000 km trip in 84 days.88 Boats were the first solar propelled vehicles in commercial use for leisure or commuting travel. There was possibly a solar powered water taxi in India as early as 199389 and there was one in Switzerland in the mid-1990s.90 Details on the design of these crafts are not well documented, so it is not known exactly what their level of PV reliance was. The reason that boating has been one of the only areas where solar powered vehicles have been used commercially is likely because their costs were significantly lower than other modes of solar mass transit would have been.

Design Themes The promise of many early PV devices was that they were windows into a future of endless innovation powered by the sun. These devices were motivated by a mix of cultural and commercial interests and were often more aspirational than practical. At the same time, these devices staked out a space for PV media, with radio communication and kinetic objects. Over the course of the 20th century, PV moved from this aspirational demonstration to dependable and in some cases commonplace. By the end of the 1990s, many areas of this field were finding at least fledgling commercial success. While consumer devices like watches and calculators have secured their place in the market, solar integration is still often used as a marketing gimmick. BIPV had become commercially viable in some instances and a wide range of architectural strategies were enacted. In all of these domains, the novelty was beginning to subside, creating space for more refined design.

Notes 1 Neil M. Clark, “Big Power Plant in the Sky,” Saturday Evening Post, November 5, 1955, 42–124. 2 L.K. Sillcox, “Fuels of the Future,” Journal of the Franklin Institute 259, no. 3 (March 1955): 183–95, doi:10.1016/0016-0032(55)90821-8. 3 “Sun’s Light Powers Tiny Car.” Popular Science, October 1955: 156.

Early PV Design 55 4 Jack Walsworth, “GM previews promise of solar power with Sunmobile model car,” Automotive News, accessed October 20, 2020, https://www.autonews.com/ article/20160830/CCHISTORY/160829860/gm-previews-promise-of-solar-powerwith-sunmobile-model-car. 5 Eames Office, “Serious Play: Design in Midcentury America (Part 4, Solar Do-Nothing Machine),” YouTube video, 2:17, 8/22/2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CQLyeOIKTM. 6 Monica Obniski and Darrin Alfred, eds., Serious Play: Design in Midcentury America (New Haven : Yale University Press. 2018), 186–217. 7 Paul Betts “The Work of Charles and Ray Eames: A Legacy of Invention,” review of “The Work of Charles and Ray Eames: A Legacy of Invention,” by Donald Albrecht, The Art Bulletin, vol. 82, no. 3, September 2000: 592, doi:10.2307/3051408. 8 Lucinda Kaukas Havenhand, “American Abstract Art and the Interior Design of Ray and Charles Eames,” Journal of Interior Design 31, no. 2 (2006): 29–42, doi:10.1111/j.1939-1668.2005.tb00409.x. 9 Eames Office, “Solar Do-Nothing Machine” YouTube video, 2:11, 1957 & 1995, https:// youtu.be/kv6YvKPXQzk 10 “A Twirling Toy Run by Sun: Gadget Is Forerunner of Future Solar Power Machine,” Life, March 24, 1958, 22-23. 11 Daniel A. Barber, “The World Solar Energy Project, ca. 1954.” Grey Room, no. 51 (Spring 2013): 64–93, doi:10.1162/GREY_a_00107. 12 Georgia Apostolou and Angèle H. M. E. Reinders, “Overview of Design Issues in Product-Integrated Photovoltaics,” Energy Technology 2, no. 3 (March 2014): 229–42, doi:10.1002/ente.201300158. 13 Acopian, “Solar Radio,” 1957. 14 “Sun Electricity.” TIME Magazine 66, no. 1 (July 4, 1955): 64. 15 Geoffrey Jones and Loubna Bouamane, “‘Power from Sunshine’: A Business History of Solar Energy,” Harvard Business School Working Paper, no. 12–105 (May 2012), http:// nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:9056763. 16 Leslie H. Hoffman, “Harnessing The Sun’s Energy,” Trusts and Estates 96, no. 10 (October 1957): 1019–21. 17 “Hoffman Electronics Corp. Ad,” Fortune 54, no. 6, (December 1956), 38. 18 Rita Reif, “Abundant Harvest of Christmas Toys Will Delight Children of All Ages,” The New York Times, November 28, 1957. 54. 19 “Solar Radio Sales Bulletin (from 1957),” accessed December 24, 2019, https://www. acopian.com/radio-sales-bulletin.html. 20 $11.95 and $12.95 in 1957 translates to about $109.50 and $118.66 respectively in 2020 dollars. 21 “Solar Radio Instruction Sheet (from 1957),” accessed December 24, 2019, https:// www.acopian.com/radio-instruction-sheet.html. 22 Sal R. Nuccio, “Toy Fair Opens Amid Industry Optimism,” The New York Times, March 12, 1962, 47,56. 23 A. H. M. E. Reinders and W. G. J. H. M. van Sark, “Product-Integrated Photovoltaics,” Comprehensive Renewable Energy (January 2012): 709–32, doi:10.1016/ B978-0-08-087872-0.00140-2. 24 Angèle Reinders, Designing with Photovoltaics (New York: CRC Press, 2020), 31. 25 Pierre-Yves Donzé and David Borel, “Technological Innovation and Brand Management: The Japanese Watch Industry since the 1990s,” Journal of Asia-Pacific Business 20, no. 2 (April 2019): 82–101, doi:10.1080/10599231.2019.1610655. 26 Reinders, Designing with Photovoltaics, 34. 27 Pierre-Yves Donzé and David Borel, “Technological Innovation and Brand Management: The Japanese Watch Industry since the 1990s,” 82–101. 28 Pierre-Yves Donzé and David Borel, “Technological Innovation and Brand Management: The Japanese Watch Industry since the 1990s,” 82–101. 29 “Solar Watch Instructions,” Seiko, accessed October 24, 2020, https://loremipsumcorp. com/seiko_shopify_data/watch-manuals/NSEV1CCA.pdf. 30 “Sharp EL-8026 ‘Sun Man’,” accessed September 17, 2020 http://www.vintagecalculators. com/html/sharp_el-8026.html.

56  Part II 31 Georgia Apostolou and Angèle H. M. E. Reinders, “Overview of Design Issues in Product-Integrated Photovoltaics,” Energy Technology 2, no. 3 (March 2014): 229–42, doi:10.1002/ente.201300158. 32 William J. Hawkins, “What’s New In Electronics” Popular Science, April, 1978, 98. 33 “Feedback: Calculating intentions”, New Scientist, July 20, 1978, 221. 34 “Bandai Escape From the Devil’s Doom,” Handheld Museum, accessed October 23, 2020, https://handheldmuseum.com/Bandai/EscapeDevil.htm. 35 “Bandai Terror House,” Handheld Museum, accessed October 23, 2020, https:// handheldmuseum.com/Bandai/TerrorHouse.htm. 36 “Escape From the Devil’s Doom,” accessed October 23, 2020, http://www.somethinkodd. com/oddthinking/2008/07/30/escape-from-the-devils-doom/. 37 Email correspondence between Alex Nathanson and Rik Morgan of www. handheldmuseum.com, 10/23/2020. 38 “WM-F107,” Walkman Central, accessed October 17, 2020, http://www.walkmancentral. com/products/wm-f107. 39 Gary McMillan, “‘Playing’ with Power at Energy Expo,” Boston Globe, October 3, 1980, 22. 40 “Crude Oil Price 1970-2007 (Constant 2007 Dollars),” Earth Policy Institute, accessed October 23, 2020, http://www.earth-policy.org/data_center/C23. 41 Andrew Cassel,. “Lighting The Way Gadgets, Toys Opening Doors for Solar Cells,” The Philadelphia Inquirer, August 17, 1986, D01. 42 A. H. M. E. Reinders and W. G. J. H. M. van Sark, “Product-Integrated Photovoltaics,” Comprehensive Renewable Energy (January 2012): 709–32, doi:10.1016/ B978-0-08-087872-0.00140-2. 43 Reinders, Designing with Photovoltaics, 30. 44 Rafaela A. Agathokleous and Soteris A. Kalogirou, “Status, Barriers and Perspectives of Building Integrated Photovoltaic Systems,” Energy 191, (January 2020): 116471, https:// doi.org/10.1016/j.energy.2019.116471. 45 Debayan Sarkar, Anand Kumar and Pradip Kumar Sadhu, “A Survey on Development and Recent Trends of Renewable Energy Generation from BIPV Systems,” IETE Technical Review 37, no. 3 (May 2020): 258–80, doi:10.1080/02564602.2019.1598294. 46 Patrick Heinstein, Christophe Ballif and Laure-Emmanuelle Perret-Aebi, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): Review, Potentials, Barriers and Myths,” Green 3, no. 2 (2013): 125–56, doi:10.1515/green-2013-0020. 47 K. W. Böer, “Renewable Energy – From Solar One to Tomorrow,” Physica Status Solidi (RRL) - Rapid Research Letters 2, no. 4 (August 2008): A45–46, doi:10.1002/ pssr.200850056. 48 S. J. Strong and R. J. Osten, “Residential Photovoltaic Applications in The United States,” Energy for Rural and Island Communities (1982): 389–94, doi:10.1016/ b978-0-08-027606-9.50048-9. 49 Steven J. Strong, “Power Windows.” IEEE Spectrum 33, no. 10 (October 1996): 49–55, doi:10.1109/6.540090. 50 Heinstein, Ballif and Perret-Aebi, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): Review, Potentials, Barriers and Myths,” 125–56. 51 Strong, “Power Windows,” 49–55. 52 Patrina Eiffert and Gregory J. Kiss, Building-Integrated Photovoltaic Designs for Commercial and Institutional Structures: A Sourcebook for Architects, (National Renewable Energy Laboratory, 2000). 53 Joachim Benemann, Oussama Chehab, Eric Schaar-Gabriel, “Building-Integrated PV Modules,” Solar Energy Materials and Solar Cells 67, no. 1–4 (2001): 345–54, doi:10.1016/S0927-0248(00)00302-0. 54 Eiffert and Kiss, Building-Integrated Photovoltaic Designs for Commercial and Institutional Structures: A Sourcebook for Architects. 55 Barbara Flanagan, “Public Eye; Still Reaching for the Sun,” July 2, 1998, https:// w w w.ny times.com /1998/07/02 /garden /public- eye-still-reaching-for-the-sun. html?searchResultPosition=1. 56 Lucy Fellowes, “Exhibition Illuminates Design Aspects of Solar Technologies,” Save With Solar 1, no. 3 (USDepartment of Energy), Winter 1998, 3.

Early PV Design 57 57 “Under the Sun: An Outdoor Exhibition of Light,” accessed May 26, 2020, http://www. kisscathcart.com/pdf/Underthesun.pdf. 58 Eiffert and Kiss, Building-Integrated Photovoltaic Designs for Commercial and Institutional Structures: A Sourcebook for Architects. 59 Mohammad A. Alim et al., “Is It Time to Embrace Building Integrated Photovoltaics? A Review with Particular Focus on Australia,” Solar Energy 188, (August 2019): 1118– 1133, doi:10.1016/j.solener.2019.07.002. 60 Eiffert and Kiss, Building-Integrated Photovoltaic Designs for Commercial and Institutional Structures: A Sourcebook for Architects. 61 Strong, “Power Windows,” 49–55. 62 “Electric Sunflowers,” Solar Design Associates, accessed October 24, 2020, http://www. solardesign.com/newbeta/projects/pse_1.php. 63 Eiffert and Kiss, Building-Integrated Photovoltaic Designs for Commercial and Institutional Structures: A Sourcebook for Architects. 64 Vicki Cleave, “A Flight to Remember,” Nature 451, (February 2008): 884–86. 65 Robert J. Boucher, “History of Solar Flight,” Paper presented at AIAA/SAE/ASME 20th Joint Propulsion Conference, Cincinnati, Ohio, June 11–-13, 1984. 66 Boucher, “History of Solar Flight,” 1984. 67 Robert Boucher, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, March 2021. 68 Robert J. Boucher, “Sunrise, the World’s First Solar-Powered Airplane.” Journal of Aircraft 22, no. 10 (1985): 840–46, doi:10.2514/3.45213. 69 Boucher, 840–46. 70 P. B. MacCready et al., “Sun-Powered Aircraft Designs,” Journal of Aircraft 20, no. 6 (1983): 487–93, doi:10.2514/3.44898. 71 MacCready et al., 487–93. 72 Boucher, “Sunrise, the World’s First Solar-Powered Airplane,” 840–46. 73 Boucher, “History of Solar Flight,” 1984. 74 “NASA Armstrong Fact Sheet: Solar-Power Research,” accessed October 24, 2020, https://www.nasa.gov/centers/armstrong/news/FactSheets/FS-054-DFRC.html. 75 “Sun Helps Power Battery Car,” The New York Times, March 17, 1960, https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1960/03/17/105421532.pdf 76 Hans Tholstrup, “Letting the Sun Shine on New Technology.” Australian Geographic, July-Sept 1998, 31. 77 Apostolou and Reinders, “Overview of Design Issues in Product-Integrated Photovoltaics,” 229–42. 78 John Perlin, Let It Shine: The 6,000-Year Story of Solar Energy, (Novato: New World Library, 2013), 409. 79 Douglas R. Carroll and Paul D. Hirtz, “Teaching Multi-Disciplinary Design: Solar Car Design.” Journal of Engineering Education 91, no. 2 (April 2002): 245–48, doi:10.1002/j.2168-9830.2002.tb00698.x. 80 Howard G. Wilson, Paul B. MacCready and Chester R. Kyle, “Lessons of Sunraycer,” Scientific American 260, no. 3 (March 1989): 90–97, doi:10.2307/24987181. 81 Carroll and Hirtz, “Teaching Multi-Disciplinary Design: Solar Car Design,” 245–48. 82 Kevin Desmond, “A History of Solar Boating,” ReNew: Technology for a Sustainable Future, no. 66 (January-March 1999): 38–40. 83 Tim Gorter, “Design Considerations of a Solar Racing Boat: Propeller Design Parameters as a Result of PV System Power,” Energy Procedia 75 (2015): 1901–06, doi:10.1016/j. egypro.2015.07.179. 84 Desmond, “A History of Solar Boating,” 38–40. 85 “History,” Solar Splash, accessed October 27, 2020, http://solarsplash.com/introductionand-information/history/. 86 Robert L. Reid and Bruce D. Hoeppner, “Five Years of Solar Powered Boat Racing at Marquette University,” in ASEE Annual Conference Proceedings (1997). 87 Reid and Hoeppner, “Five Years of Solar Powered Boat Racing at Marquette University.” 88 Desmond, “A History of Solar Boating,” 38–40. 89 “Solar Boats,” Moss Solar, accessed October 26, 2020, http://www.mosssolar.com/ solar_boats.htm. 90 Desmond, “A History of Solar Boating,” 38–40.

4

Solar Art Comes Alive

The emergence of PV art in various media in the 20th century occurred somewhat predictably based on economics and the energy demands of certain technologies. Sound artists were the first group to begin working with solar power. The low energy demands of the medium allowed it to make use of a minimal amount of solar power at a time when purchasing large quantities of PV cells would have been prohibitively expensive for most artists. In the 1980s and 1990s, PV artistic practice expanded dramatically to encompass public art, live performance, robotics, wearables, interactive media art, sculpture, video art, and glass works. This explosion of media fostered a number of themes and techniques that remain relevant today. Various forms of environmental, biological, and cybernetic art appeared. Concepts that connected solar energy and time also became important. The idea of time is central to any understanding of the sun and runs through many of these works, particularly those that use natural light. This may include literal timekeeping, timescales, musical rhythms, patterns of movement, and life cycles. Autonomy, mobility, site specificity, and the aesthetics of circuitry all became important areas of exploration during this time as well. This time period also saw the emergence of the first attempts to create communities and establish a broader cultural context for PV work. This was accomplished through exhibitions1 and festivals throughout Western Europe and Japan, which began to feature PV art in greater numbers. Networks of practitioners were also crucial to expanding the knowledge of techniques and concepts in this domain. These events represented an increasing interest in solar concepts within the contemporary art world. By the end of the 20th century, PV solar power had begun to establish itself as a discipline worthy of creative investigation across numerous fields.

Early Sound Art The first documented sound art works to include PV occurred in 1967. Ted Victoria began experimenting with solar powered radio receivers. His first piece was Clothes Line Sound (1967) (Figure 4.1). In the artwork, solar cells, a radio, and a piece of tinfoil were suspended from a clothes line. Victoria glued the earpiece of the radio to a piece of tinfoil, which distorted its sound. Other early work of his included the Solstic series (Figure 4.2). These sound sculptures took the form of eight foot tall clear plexiglass columns, inspired by Stonehenge. He would place the solar module and radio at the top of the hollow column and make slits on the bottom. The radios would be tuned to talk shows or weather stations, but never music.

Solar Art Comes Alive 59

Figure 4.1  Ted Victoria, Clothes Line Sound (1967). Courtesy the artist.

Figure 4.2  Ted Victoria, Solstic #1 (1968). Courtesy the artist.

60  Part II The sound would reverberate in the tube and when it came out the other end it would be distorted. The voices were not understandable, but you could tell someone was talking. Victoria would install these columns outside and whenever the sun hit it, it would turn on. Other PV work he produced used similar techniques to distort radio sounds. This included attaching the speaker to tubes, which were sometimes buried underground (Figure 4.3). He also produced a series of solar powered radios that were completely encased in resin, which he would place in public areas, with the hope that people would stumble across them. Victoria was very concerned with all of these solar pieces working visually, and not just technically or aurally. In order to keep these pieces minimal and visually interesting, he disassembled the radios, to expose the circuitry. Solar cells were hard to come by at that time. He was able to get cells from Hoffman Electronics. When he told them he was an artist, they sent him a couple of 8-by-8 inch cells for free. These were expensive, high quality cells. In most of his work, he used cheaper cells that he would pull out of toys and children’s science kits. 2 Victoria’s most well-known PV work, Solar Audio Window Transmission (1969–70), was included in the ground breaking exhibition Software at the Jewish Museum in 1970. The high profile exhibition, sponsored by the American Motors Corporation, explored artistic uses of information processing and its associated hardware. Among other things, the exhibition is famous for being one of the earliest, if not the earliest, instances of a computer being physically installed within a museum exhibition. It is less well known that it is also likely the first instance

Figure 4.3  Ted Victoria, Crawl (1968–70). Courtesy the artist.

Solar Art Comes Alive 61 of functional PV art objects in a museum show. It’s an interesting historical coincidence that PV technologies evolved into practical use due to their proximity to transistor and computer engineering and here, again, we see this history aligned, with both technologies entering the mainstream institutional art world in the same exhibition. Victoria’s installation consisted of 10 solar modules on the roof of the museum that each powered a radio receiver tuned to a different station. The radio stations played a mix of news, weather reports, air traffic communications, emergency services communications, and talk shows. The output from each radio was connected to contact speakers. These speakers were suction cupped on to glass windows on the facade of the front of the building as well as the two front doors. When a given solar module was exposed to light, the surface it was connected to would emit the sound of that particular radio at a low volume. To experience the piece, visitors needed to walk around the space, putting their ears up to the glass, in order to discover different audio zones. Because the solar modules were facing different directions, the sound output and location on the windows would change over the course of the day. The instructions for the viewer, printed in the show’s catalogue were, Participants will be expected to search out sounds along the front of the museum. The position of the sun along with weather conditions will determine which of the units will operate. Of course the piece will not function at night or during inclement weather. (Consult your local newspaper as to the times the piece will be in operation i.e. times of sunrise, sunset, and weather forecasts.)3 In addition to encouraging the audience to engage with the physical space of the museum in a new way, forcing them to literally discover the work on their own, the piece also juxtaposes the rhythms of the natural world and the rhythms of the city in a way that is not normally considered. In order to listen to the sounds of the city via the installation, one needs to be aware of the natural environmental conditions. The use of solar power enables the installation to create a unique and personal experience for each listener. Depending on what part of the window they are listening to, what is playing on the radio at that moment, the weather conditions, and time of day the experience could be very different for everyone. Max Neuhaus’ installations Byproduct (1967) and Fan Music (1967) also likely incorporated PV. Not much is known about the specifics of the technology employed in these works. The limited documentation of these works suggests that in some instances Neuhaus was using PV cells, but in others he was using different light-responsive technology, like photoresistors.4 Neuhaus created different iterations of Byproduct, using a variety of technologies, prior to the 1967 performance that possibly involved PV cells. Fan Music was installed on four adjacent rooftops on the Bowery in lower Manhattan from August 9 to 11. 5 Neuhaus considered this to be his first “place work” and it was an important milestone in his career. In the installation, Neuhaus positioned PV cells behind a fan. As the fan turned, the sunlight hitting the cells would be periodically blocked by the blades. He described the sound as “forming a continuous aural topography across the urban terrain.”6 The devices Neuhaus used to respond to light were engineered and given to him by engineers at Bell Labs, when Neuhaus participated in the Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.) program.7 E.A.T. was an influential organization whose mission was to

62  Part II enable collaborations between artists and engineers. The program began in 1966 with 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering. 9 Evenings featured a series of technically complex avant-garde performances that resulted from collaborations between 10 artists and 30 engineers from Bell Labs.8 Neuhaus also contributed a sound piece that likely used PV cells to an installation by the artist Alison Knowles, called The House of Dust (1968). This work definitely used solar power, although it is unclear if it was using PV solar power or solar thermal technology that reacted to the sun’s heat, rather than the light. Joe Jones began working with solar powered instruments in 1977. His first two pieces, built one after the other, were a device that played chimes and a solar zitar. A zitar is a stringed instrument of Jones’ invention that was similar to a zither, and in at least some instances was a zither, that was played via electric motors. Jones created many versions of the zitar during his career, both with and without solar power.9 Jones’ approach, which stayed fairly consistent throughout all of his experiments with PV music machines, relied on a simple direct drive circuit. PV cells were wired directly to a DC motor with a percussive element attached to the shaft that would spin around, striking other elements, in these cases chimes or the zitar’s strings, to produce sound. Without any power smoothing capabilities or power storage capacity, these devices would work in direct proportion to the amount of sunlight hitting the solar cell. The more light the faster the motor would spin the percussive element, which would usually have been a wire, rubber band, or ball on a string, which in turn would strike percussion or string instruments. The motor, in many cases, was also suspended so that it would swing as the shaft turned. The fluctuating power of the solar panel, in combination with the swinging motor and swinging percussive element attached to the motor’s shaft, would create semi-random musical rhythms (Figure 4.4). Jones was born in Greenpoint, Brooklyn and lived in New York City until the early 1970s.10 After a brief stint attempting to find gigs as a jazz musician, he studied with composers John Cage and Earle Brown in the early 60s. In 1963, Jones began constructing electromechanical music machines and shortly after became a member of the Fluxus movement. As a Fluxus artist who was highly influenced by Cage, he was much more concerned with process and variability than a set finished product. In 1970, he opened The Music Store, which featured window displays that allowed passersby to push buttons to interact with the mechanical instruments installed in the window. The store also functioned as an event space for Fluxus events and was the site of collaborations between Jones, Yoko Ono and John Lennon. After running The Music Store for two years, his landlord doubled his rent to $250 a month,11 so he left New York City for Europe. It’s telling that Jones’ first PV projects, in 1977, coincided with the increase in public interest and investment in PV in the United States. His work could only be produced once the price of PV cells began to drop, which was just beginning to happen at that time. Jones first conceived of creating electronic instruments with solar power in 1964, but the price of solar panels at that time prohibited him from using them in his artwork.12 Around that period he also started planning a series of installations where numerous solar powered instruments would be suspended from trees. By 1977, the cost of solar modules had dropped to roughly $17.17 per watt13,14 and he was able to afford to begin working with PV.

Solar Art Comes Alive 63

Figure 4.4  Joe Jones, Solar Music Hot House at Ars Electronica (1988). Photo courtesy of Gary Warner.

Jones continued to make numerous solar powered instruments through the 80s, recombining and recontextualizing them to make a variety of installations, and musical compositions. These groupings of instruments would sometimes be referred to as the Solar Orchestra. Solar Cage Music (1984) applied his typical circuit to a violin placed in a small animal cage. The first iteration of the piece, simply called Cage Music, was created in 1963 and was not solar powered. The title is both a literal description of the instrument and a homage to his former teacher, John Cage. A major theme throughout all of Jones’s career was mobility, which was enabled through the use of solar power. Street Piece for a Clochard (1987) is a solar powered

64  Part II

Figure 4.5  Alvin Lucier, Solar Sounder I (1979).

instrument constructed on a small wheeled cart. Clochard is a French term for a vagrant, and the piece incorporates this visual aesthetic. The cart is piled high with a variety of instruments and tied together precariously. The solar cells that power the motors are mounted on an umbrella that sticks up above the cart. Over the course of his career Jones designed a variety of mobile pieces and in addition to instruments on carts he made works on bicycles and conceived of a number of projects that were never fully realized. A couple years after Jones began working with solar power, Alvin Lucier created Solar Sounder I with the help of engineer John Fullemann in 1979 (Figure 4.5). Lucier, a major figure in contemporary music, is perhaps the most well-known sound artist to experiment with PV. His practice explores phenomena relating to sound and hearing. A major conceptual aspect of many of Lucier’s projects is to set up a system or process and let it go on, uninterrupted and without human intervention, until it runs its course. The cyclical and temporal nature of solar power makes it an obvious tool for this approach.

Solar Art Comes Alive 65 Solar Sounder I, Lucier’s only PV work, was installed in the public lobby of City Savings Bank in Middletown, Connecticut. The lobby is a small room with three glass walls. One PV module was installed facing out on each wall. The modules were mounted on wooden posts, attached to a waist high railing running around the edges of the room. The electronics components were installed in a triangular box, wedged into a corner of the railing. One speaker was mounted in a corner of the room, high up flush to the ceiling. The installation produced a square wave that changed depending on the weather, time of day, and year. At the time, Lucier was quoted as saying, “The speed and tone of the pulses vary with the amount of sunlight received. The more sun, the faster the pattern and the higher the pitches … They’re short, sharp sounds. It’s kind of a jazzy pattern.”15 Unlike Jones, who was mostly making devices that were meant to be interacted with, Lucier was explicitly interested in limiting interaction with his piece. When asked about whether he could make it interactive, and allow school children to play with it, Lucier responded: I could do that, in which case it’s an instrument to be played. But my idea was different … In the Southwest, etchings in rock that are sun symbols have been discovered. There’s a particular one where someone—whoever the people were many years ago—had set slabs of rock upright so that exactly at noon on June 21st a shaft of light splits the middle of it exactly. So it’s a sun dial.16 Interestingly, when interviewed, Lucier expressed that he was not particularly happy with the output from the piece. He also said he was not aware he was one of the earliest artists to work with solar power, which is indicative of how little awareness of this field there is.17 While there was definitely some overlap between the approaches of these four early practitioners, Lucier was more interested in natural systems, rather than social systems and human interference. It’s hard to say to what degree these four practitioners influenced the artists who would come after them. Lucier is the most famous of the bunch and his career as a whole has been hugely influential. Solar Sounder I is known by some more recent sound art practitioners who have investigated the history of the field, but not widely beyond that. With so little knowledge of this field codified in any accessible format, it’s hard to draw a direct line between these earlier artists and more recent works. However, what is clear is that many of the ideas and techniques from this era are still present in the field today.

Jürgen Claus and Biospheric Art Following sound art, outdoor public sculpture was the next field to begin to emerge. In contrast to sound art works that required relatively little power, these pieces could require much more. However, the high exposure to sunlight and access to larger budgets for sculpture and installation enabled it to be produced. One of the earliest examples is the work of Jürgen Claus. Claus is a German artist whose work spans painting, writing, installation, and environmental art, often with a focus on the sea and the sun. Claus’s work demonstrates a particularly important range of applications in the field

66  Part II of PV art. He began by using it simply for the practical purpose of powering off-grid artwork. Later, he worked to reimagine the physical presence of PV material. At other points he explored its potential for addressing the world’s problems. Beginning in the late 1960s and continuing through the mid-1980s, Claus’ work was primarily concerned with the effects of light underwater. He produced a number of underwater sculptural interventions in locations that ranged from remote diving sites to urban waterways. His first use of PV was for Gardens of Sharm (1978), an underwater art garden installed in the Red Sea. It was used to charge batteries for cameras and other devices. He started incorporating PV directly into sculptural works in 1984, with Pyramid of the Sun. This pyramid-shaped structure was composed of eight 150 cm long argon fluorescent tubes.18 Claus’ work is anchored in his concept of biospheric art. The biosphere encompasses the cumulative areas of the earth where living organisms are present. For Claus, biospheric art represents a return to art as a vehicle for connecting the viewer to natural rhythms, processes, and environments. It is not limited by medium or technical characteristics, but is defined by its engagement with some aspect, however tenuous or abstract, to the sun’s energy. He writes, “Art is part of the continuous critical and creative reflection on our life within the biosphere. The biosphere idea regards living matter in its entirety as the domain for the accumulation and transformation of the sun’s energy.”19 This general idea—that all life and processes are in some way solar powered—has been important for many artists making work with or in response to the sun. One of Claus’s most ambitious contributions to this field, created in collaboration with his wife Nora, is their efforts to form a creative network and share a vision for biospheric art. While not solely focused on PV, their call for “Art for the Solar Age” is an important example of one of the early attempts to build a community of practitioners and expand the context for sun-related art works. They co-founded the SolArt Global Network in 1993 with the goal of connecting and expanding upon the work of artists working with the sun all over the world. The network was primarily active from 1993 through 1995 and included artists from the US, Germany, and Japan. 20 The nationalities of the artists closely reflect the centers of the PV industry at the time.21 They defined solar art as works focused on cosmic energies, i.e. solar energy. This encompassed research-based art practices focused on light; light works involving mirrors, prisms, and other optical effects; holograms; and work powered by PV, wind and hydro power. All of these solar mediums, Claus writes, enabled one to engage with the sun’s intrinsic cyclical properties. 22 In 1993, under the SolArt umbrella, the Clauses produced the Solar Energy—Art Energy symposium in Baelen, Belgium. Their network published a series of articles in a special section of the Leonardo journal, one of the preeminent academic journals for art and technology writing. Over the course of four issues in 1995 and 1996, 23 a number of scholars, artists, and inventors wrote articles proclaiming the artistic importance of the sun and identifying the challenges and possibilities for the transition to the “Solar Age.” The necessity for the network, Claus wrote, was driven by the increasing urgency of ecological issues, awareness of the limits of fossil fuels, the growing desire for decentralization in politics and energy, and the growing demands of disenfranchised people globally to attain a higher quality of life.24 He argues that ecological stability in the 21st century must be rooted in cultural change and the loose network of artists sharing his vision for a “solar age” was a mechanism to achieve that goal. He goes on to

Solar Art Comes Alive 67 say that this work is needed urgently and must begin immediately in order to address these issues by the year 2025, a call to action that society unfortunately did not hear. The success of the SolArt Global Network encouraged them to continue pushing their work with solar power forward. Claus wanted to reimagine the visual and technical possibilities of using PV in a sculptural context. The previous PV works he had made used PV modules essentially as intended, but in a visual art environment. He attempted to further reimagine the visual possibilities of PV material with Solar Crystal Sculpture (1994–95) (Figure 4.6) and Solar Icosahedron (1997), the latter also created in collaboration with Nora. Solar Crystal Sculpture stands 6 meters tall on a multi-colored metal triangular truss. The work features six 53 watt solar modules surrounded by 11 tetrahedral shaped colored lights. Three lights are positioned on each side, with two on the top and bottom, and one on the back. From the front, the six PV modules are visible in the center of the sculpture. The work is entirely energy self-sufficient, and the lights turn on at dusk. Solar Icosahedron, another six meter tall sculpture, extended Jürgen’s mission to expand the visual aesthetics of the solar module and further integrate it into the design of the structure.25 An icosahedron has twenty triangular sides. Five panels on the top of the sculpture each functioned as 81 watt PV modules, each with 54 integrated monocrystalline solar cells. During the day, the icosahedron would slowly rotate, while storing energy in batteries. Ten of the triangles in the middle of the sculpture were painted with a variety of symbols relating to natural elements, which would be lit up in the evening. 26

Figure 4.6  Jürgen Claus, Solar Crystal Sculpture (1994–95). Courtesy the artist.

68  Part II Towards the end of the 1990s, as the BIPV industry was expanding, Claus’s work moved to reimaging what a PV cell and module could be through collaborating with the BIMODE project. The BIMODE project was a European collaboration between designers, architects, and scientists across universities, government, and industry that attempted to create more aesthetically pleasing PV modules.27 Claus’ role in this project was as the artistic director, developing new designs for the form, color and size of PV cells. This work resulted in producing prototypes of stained glass windows with integrated cells as well as a multicolor triangular module. The success of the BIOMODE project led Claus to expand on his earlier call to arms and more explicitly encourage the collaboration between art and industry in order to develop architectural technologies that address the environmental challenges while building on aesthetic traditions.

BEAM Robotics BEAM is a robot design philosophy, created by Mark Tilden, that stands for Biology, Electronics, Aesthetics, and Mechanics. The concept was conceived after he heard a lecture by the roboticist Rodney Brooks in 1989. 28 He was inspired by Brooks’ concept of a robot without memory and only simple stimulus response.29 Tilden took this concept further, getting rid of the computer entirely and created his first BEAM bot in the weeks following the lecture. BEAM bots posed interesting challenges to traditional understandings of robotic design, such as questions around the nature of autonomy, sentience, and resiliency. These concerns have since become even more relevant in light of the increases in artificial intelligence and the impacts of climate change (Figures 4.7 and 4.8).

Figure 4.7  Mark Tilden, Enterprise, BEAM Photopopper robot (circa 1999). Courtesy Dave Hrynkiw.

Solar Art Comes Alive 69

Figure 4.8  Grant McKee, a pair of BEAM Turmet robots (circa 2000). Courtesy Dave Hrynkiw.

Tilden’s approach gained a significant following in the 1990s and early 2000s, among a wide range of technologists, scientists, artists, industrial designers, and hobbyists. Their activities took place both online and at live events, in North America and India. Numerous different types of biologically inspired circuits were created and shared by this community. At the movement’s height there were nearly 100 functioning BEAM related websites, as well as various listservs and message boards. Today, the vast majority of these resources are offline, but a large amount of educational material and schematics relating to BEAM circuit designs live on. The BEAM community created some of the most influential circuits in the area of micro-scale PV devices that have inspired numerous artists and designers beyond the field of robotics as well. The BEAM design ethos has four primary principles. Designs should be biologically inspired. They should use minimal parts. They should use recycled and upcycled materials. Finally, a BEAM device should use solar power. This approach lends itself to hyper efficient and deceptively simple solar powered creatures, made from analog electronic components. The simplest BEAM bots are cheap and easy to build. At the time, they cost a fraction of what a similar robot built with traditional custom made parts and programmable digital logic would have cost. The visual aesthetic of BEAM bots ranges widely, although they tend to be small, and because of the upcycling ethos and interest in biomimicry it lends itself to playful looking bug-like creatures. Many BEAM bots also use a technique called free forming

70  Part II to build the circuit without the use of a circuit board. BEAM bots are commonly classified by playful names that describe their behavior in some way like Squirmer, Crawler, Roller, and Walker. These devices often rely on a range of solar engines for their functions. A solar engine stores up energy, typically in a supercapacitor, and releases it in a burst when it has reached a certain threshold. This allows devices to operate on very little energy. They didn’t need to be always moving and could recharge based on available solar resources. Complex movements and behaviors could be created by clever mechanical designs or combining multiple motors powered by solar engines, other types of motor drivers, and sensors. Biologically inspired designs, such as these, seek to reproduce, mimic, or build upon systems and structures found in nature. This design approach may be employed because the designer feels there is value to be gained in terms of efficiency, resiliency, sustainability, or other metrics honed by millennia of evolution. It can also offer opportunities for communication through visual patterns or metaphor in an interesting way. Around 1994, Tilden was hired as a robo-biologist in the Physics Department at Los Alamos National Laboratory. Up until then, he had been building robots in his spare time, while working as a hardware engineer at the University of Waterloo in Ontario, Canada.30 At Los Alamos, his job was to apply his robotics techniques towards researching and designing survivalist biomorphic robots for space and military applications.31 The simplest way to describe a biomorphic device is to say that the whole machine acts as an analog computer, designed along biological paradigms, to move in, interact with, and survive in an unknown but fractal external world. There is no notion of programming, but rather adaptive, parallel reconfiguring of signals in neuron circuits, typically in ring topologies. These structures compute, but not in any digital sense. This leads to the idea of a biomorphic architecture.32 In a 1995 paper that Tilden published in collaboration with another Los Alamos scientist, Brosl Hasslacher, he explored the possibilities of more complex BEAM bots. They also listed a series of survival laws for his biomorphic devices.33 These laws have since become colloquially known as Tilden’s Laws of Robotics. Biomorphic survival laws: 1 A machine must protect its existence. 2 A machine must acquire more energy than it exerts. 3 A machine must exhibit (directed) motion. This list very explicitly contrasts with Asimov’s laws of robotics, the most famous set of rules of this sort. Tilden described Isaac Asimov’s laws as, “ethical and fictitious… make for good fiction, but inadequate survival machines.”34 He felt that a real robot built to follow Asimov’s laws would hide in the corner all the time and wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything. Tilden was able to use these principles to create dynamic, sensitive, and resilient robots capable of emergent behavior. These behaviors could include methods for navigation and resiliency, as well as collaboration and competition between robots. Tilden’s reliance on combinations of discrete analog circuits with simple sensors,

Solar Art Comes Alive 71 instead of a centralized computer control system, enabled them to adapt to a constantly changing and unpredictable world. With a programmable device, when the bot encounters something outside of its preprogrammed understanding of the world it might not be able to progress past that particular obstacle. They could also keep working if one part failed. The ability of these bots to survive unpredictable and changing conditions was demonstrated in bots that would avoid falling off the edge of a desk or have the ability to walk through difficult terrain. This methodology also lent itself to developing extremely complex robotic creatures suitable for accomplishing real-world tasks. The full range of projects Tilden developed for various US government entities, including the military and NASA, is unknown. His bots’ unique ability to be resilient in inhospitable environments, as well as more routine everyday contexts that just need a simple task done dependably, have many potential applications. One of the most extraordinary and horrifying claims comes from a 1993 interview with Tilden that mentions that the US military inquired if he could help design “a hand grenade that creeps insect-style toward its target.”35 It’s unknown if he ever directly worked on turning his bot’s capabilities towards developing offensive weapons systems, but in public interviews he envisioned a role for his bots in repairing the destructive impact humankind has had on the natural environment and assisting humans in daily tasks. He described potential roles for his robots that would benefit from gradual, but consistent and dependable behaviors, such as chemical remediation, tree planting, landmine detectors, environmental monitoring, lawn mowing, floor polishing, cockroach killing, and pool cleaners. 36 Dave Hrynkiw was one of the earliest BEAM community members. He first got involved with BEAM in 1993 when he attended the BEAM Robot Games, a robotics competition held most years from 1991 through 2000.37 Today, much of the remaining web presence of the BEAM online community is hosted on his website.38 Hrynkiw was drawn to the BEAM ethos because of his interest in upcycling technology, the allure of solar power, and the robot’s simple and minimalist control structure. At that time, building even small programmable robots with digital logic was complicated and expensive, requiring a significant amount of knowledge in order to properly assemble and compile the code. Tilden’s BEAM techniques were significantly more accessible and avoided these issues by relying purely on hardware based electronic components and upcycling almost all of the necessary parts. Hrynkiw wanted to build something that was slow, patient, and autonomous, instead of fast, self-destroying and human-dependent. The question posed by many BEAM enthusiasts was what good is an ostensibly autonomous robot that expends all of its energy quickly and requires a human to plug it back in? Beginning around 1996, Tilden and Hrynkiw, along with a couple of other early BEAM enthusiasts, started meeting up more regularly to share their work, collaborate, and swap parts. Hrynkiw was able to get pager motors, a valuable commodity at the time, by making a deal with a Motorola repair technician who would trade him boxes of reclaimed motors in exchange for a few BEAM bots. They called their group the Small Gods, after the Terry Pratchett novel by the same name, because, as Hrynkiw described, they were building little robot disciples. The peak of the group’s activity was about 2001, but meetups and public events under the group’s name continued, though in smaller fashion, through 2005. This core group of BEAM

72  Part II evangelists would eventually include about 10 people coming from a wide range of backgrounds: a couple of Tilden’s colleagues from Los Alamos, a punk musician, and various designers and engineers from different fields.39 The collaborative and experimental approach of the group benefited from its interdisciplinary makeup. Hrynkiw described the benefits of this interdisciplinary group as, We all had our own special niches, like the musician would come in and say, “hey, you guys ever play with bass wire?” And we’d say, “why would we want to play with bass wire?” “Well, what you do with the bass is you take this really fat wire on the E string, you take it off… and you turn it into a sensor like this,” and we’d go “aw, that’s so cool!” And then you’d have the industrial engineer who’d show up with a bag full of cutoffs from his CNC machine… and you can [use them to] make your bodies. “Oh that’s really cool!” And then I’d show up with my box of $70 pager motors and hand them out like candy and people are going, “wow!” Having such a wide range of people, wide interests… the cross pollination. We had a lot of fun… trading with the team.40 BEAM’s popularity waned as other methods for building robots and creating complex electronics became more accessible. As programmable microcontroller technology became dramatically cheaper and easier to work with, BEAM technologies have fallen out of fashion, although many of the reasons for the BEAM methods are as relevant and compelling as ever. As Hrynkiw described, analog electronics have an incredible amount of variability. It adds flavor and unpredictability that can’t always be reproduced in a digital microcontroller. “That’s what made the BEAM technology so cool because you’d expect it to do something, but you’d get this little hairy edge condition with the voltage output just at the right point and it would affect the other part of the circuit just weirdly.”41 In addition to competition from other technologies, the raw materials used to make BEAM bots, the broken electronic detritus with mechanical parts, are no longer common. Hrynkiw described the reasons for the decline of BEAM as, The golden age of reusable electronics is long over. I used to be able to pull apart a VCR and get two or three robots worth of goodies out of it and now what the hell is a VCR? You know, there’s nothing electromechanical out on the market anymore, right?… Anytime something moved or had actuators, or levers or switches I’d pull it apart and I don’t know how many little solar rollers I built from beat up cassette mechanisms, hundreds. But you just don’t see that anymore just because nobody uses it anymore. What’s the most disposable technology you use nowadays? Well not disposable, but cell phones, mp3 players, laptops, everything. And even your laptop used to be able to get interesting stuff out of the CD-ROM drive. When was the last time you bought a laptop with a CD-ROM? It’s all very silent. It’s all very silicone. There is very little. Aw hell, touch screens, you can’t even pull apart the switches anymore cause everything is touch screens. So the golden day is one of those interesting crossroads with BEAM where you had good technology and you had a reason for somebody to explore the technology. You had the one person who actually recognized the technology for what it was, being Mr. Tilden and he… realized the open source sharing spirit of it would carry the day.42

Solar Art Comes Alive 73 While BEAM designs are less common than they once were, the circuits are still widely applied by many artists working today, particularly in kinetic sculpture and sound art.

Biological, Ecological, and Cybernetic Systems PV has been used in a wide range of artistic applications exploring biological, ecological, and cybernetic systems. It is not uncommon for the boundaries of these areas to be blurred as artists explore their functions and perceptions. Two seemingly contradictory interests are often at play in this space. Many artists working in this area are interested in making a system or phenomenon perceivable. Others may be specifically interested in blurring the boundaries of what is thought to be natural, real, technological, or synthetic. Érik Samakh is a French artist who is fascinated with animal sounds and has heavily used PV in his work since 1986. He was inspired by his fascination with lizard’s proclivity to lay out in the sun all day. He initially employed PV as a sensor to control digital processes. Later he used it to power microcontrollers and in direct drive circuits. His work with direct drive circuits expands the language of this technique beyond percussion instruments. His first work to use this approach was a sound installation called Fontaines Solaires (Solar Fountains in English) (1993–94). In this work, a number of ceramic jars are in a large circle on the ground. Each jar contained water and a pump that was powered by a solar cell. When the sun was out, the sound of the water in the jars would be heard. One of his most common approaches to noise making has been the use of solar powered wind instruments, like flutes and organ pipes. The Flute Players (1997–2005) uses a direct drive circuit to connect solar cells directly to fans that move air through the wind instruments. His flutes are often installed suspended from trees or a gallery ceiling.43 Ulrike Gabriel is a German artist working with generative and biofeedback systems. In 1993, Gabriel premiered Terrain_01. The installation, created with engineer Bob O’Kane, featured 30 solar powered bug-like robot cars that were influenced by the brainwaves of a participant wearing a special headset. The oval shaped robots measured about 20 cm on the long side44 and were covered in solar cells on top. They were placed in a roughly nine meter diameter pen, raised a few inches above the floor, with lights installed directly above the pen. The participant was positioned in a chair directly facing the pen and a monitor visualizing their brain activity. The calmer they were, the faster and more chaotic the robots would behave. The machine would analyze the wearer’s brain waves, which would control the intensity of the lights, causing the robots to move. Alpha brain waves correlate to relaxation and clear thoughts, so the intensity of the lights correlated to how relaxed the user was.45 As the user tried to relax in order to increase the brightness, sometimes unsuccessfully, the robots would begin to move about. As the user watched the robots, the movement of the machines would have an impact on their brainwaves, which would in turn influence the brightness of the lights, affecting the robots’ behaviors, creating a bio-cybernetic feedback loop. The presence of the audience added additional distractions that made it more difficult to relax. Gabriel devised the robots to have a few simple behavior parameters, which were speed, avoidance, and panic. Simple analog sensors on the bots triggered the different behaviors, based on the surrounding environment. The primary sensor was the solar cells themselves, which controlled whether they moved at all and how fast. Avoidance

74  Part II enabled the machines to turn to avoid hitting another robot. O’Kane described panic as a state when the bot had enough energy to move, but wasn’t currently receiving enough light. It would begin to act erratically, quickly moving away from its current location until it found a strong enough light source and would begin moving normally again. The analog circuits enabled a fuzzy logic system, where decisions of the bots were imprecise and only vaguely predictable. The effect was to create something akin to cellular automata patterns of population distributions.46 In this work, Gabriel was interested in the idea of the objective observer and notions of control. With Terrain_01, the person is both observer and participant and must balance these roles for the light to be consistently bright enough for the bots to be activated. These ideas of control and influence vary widely across cultures, and this was reflected in how users engaged with the work and their expectations of it.47 Gabriel created a couple of variations of this work, including Terrain_02 (1997) (Figure 4.9). In this piece, two users were seated across the room from one another, face to face, with 20 robots on the large circular platform between them. Lights were installed on the base underneath the robots, as well as above. In this iteration of the work, the users’ brain activity was compared, impacting the speed and behavior of the robots. The areas of the pen that were lit up would shift in relation to user brain activity. The closer the users’ brain activity was to one another, the more homogenous and unified the robots’ movements were. The robots used in this version included

Figure 4.9  Ulrike Gabriel, Terrain_02 (1997). Courtesy the artist.

Solar Art Comes Alive 75 more complex sensors. These bots had five photo-transistors placed on the front and one on the back, to control their direction, and a pick-up coil on the bottom, to react to the electromagnetism from the lamps below, which would trigger changes in behavioral modes. The five possible modes for these robots’ behaviors were: None, in which case the robot would drive straight forward; spinning in place; panic, which in this iteration meant that the robot would move forward and backward in a straight line; avoidance, which would mean that the robot would attempt to avoid objects until it got stuck; and full behavior, which would produce fluid motion through a combination of spinning, avoidance, and panic.48 This work was concerned with ideas around mass psychology and group think. It sought to visualize it through the interaction of two strangers seated across from each other and the emergent behavior of the robots that reacted to them.49 Beginning in 1994, the artist Allan Giddy has incorporated PV into a wide range of work that often makes visible or audible natural phenomena, systems, and cultural history through poetic installations rife with symbolism. Originally trained as an electrician, he was encouraged to incorporate those skills into his art practice while attending art school, where he first began making simple kinetic artwork. He began working with PV in response to the rise of gaming and artificial intelligence within the electronic art field, which he saw as connected to industries that were intertwined with the military. He sought to find a new avenue for artistic experimentation that reflected his anti-militarism point of view.50 As he explained, Some of us were really worried about this at the time working in Germany with so much artificial intelligence and computing power, it was really connected to the war industry. It’s always a big connection with the gaming industry and therefore the war industry. And there was money filtering through from companies that were directly involved in the war industry. So for me, the choices I made weren’t so much looking at the technology and going I’m going to use that technology, it was looking at the social involvement and saying I’m not going to be involved in that part of the social structure, I’m going to be involved in this area of solar energy cause I see this as a more constructive way forward for humanity. It was a political decision and after that the technical kind of rolled out from there and I found actually there’s a lot I can do in this area and it’s a really interesting area to be involved in. But it was a deliberate decision at one point, kind of like a Y in the road, where I decided I didn’t want to get involved in C++ programming and virtual systems that are sponsored by… certain companies, and I want to get involved in something that I think is more constructive.51 Giddy’s first work with solar energy, Clock (1993), uses solar thermal rather than PV. Clock is a small sculpture that looks similar to a desk lamp. The light is pointed down, directly above a dome-like convex chunk of wood sitting on the sculpture’s base. The piece is intended to completely disintegrate the wood, through evaporation, in 350 years. Giddy was inspired by Rudolf Steiner’s edict that everything is made from light and surmised that everything could also be destroyed by light.52 He sought to make a piece exploring light as both life giving and life taking. Beyond merely using the sun as life metaphor, Giddy was able to create a functional demonstration of it. The following year Giddy produced his first PV work, Hours Remaining the Life of Allan Giddy (1994) (Figure 4.10). This work counts down the anticipated hours

76  Part II

Figure 4.10  Allan Giddy, Hours Remaining in the Life of Allan Giddy (1994). Courtesy the artist.

Solar Art Comes Alive 77 remaining in the artist’s life, based on the average life expectancy of a New Zealand man his age. A small PV cell is placed directly underneath a light bulb, which powers the digital clock, displayed across 5 small LCD screens. The work is installed on a chair. Once built, the work takes on a life of its own, immediately diverging from the artist’s life expectancy, based on how much light it receives. A number of other pieces that Giddy created around this time expanded on his exploration of light as life-giving and also attempted to visualize long-duration events at a more appreciable time scale. Ice Heart (1998) featured a heart-shaped ice sculpture that was kept frozen with solar power. The work, which was installed on the beach in Sydney, attempted to create and visualize a balanced system. When the sun is out, more energy is required to keep the chamber cool, but more energy is also being produced. When it is overcast and less energy is being produced, less energy is needed to keep the heart frozen.53 Window, Not (dedicated to Howard Arkley) (1999) seeks to emulate the sunlight hitting the exterior of a building. A replica window situated inside the gallery emits light calibrated to emulate daylight and changes its output over the course of the day. Giddy’s piece measures the sunlight striking a solar module, mounted in a window on the same side of the building as his faux window. The measuring device controls the output of the light panel. The work was installed adjacent to a small video projection depicting the entire daily cycle of the work as its brightness changed, sped up to 3 minutes. Christina Kubisch is an influential German sound artist whose work with PV explores ideas relating to place, acoustic phenomena, and the line between natural and manmade. Kubisch first gained acclaim for her work in the 1970s. In the early 1980s she began experimenting with audio installations as a way to move away from the traditional concert hall setting. Her work frequently explores acoustic perceptions of space. She has been making sound work with PV since 1991.54 One of her earliest works to incorporate PV was, Zwölf Klänge und ein Baum (1994–2013) (Figure 4.11), which translates to Twelve Sounds and a Tree. In this piece, solar modules encircle a tree. Speakers are placed throughout the space, often in the tree branches, playing synthesized sounds that approximate insect and bird noises. The light dependent analog oscillators change their output during the day. For example bright sun might favor bird sounds, while dimmer light might produce insect sounds.55 It would be common for real birds and insects to join in with the chorus of electronic sounds. This work, as with a number of her PV works, was reconfigured and recontextualized numerous times, with site specific variations, up until 2013. The use of biomimicry, in a location inhabited by real insects and birds making similar sounds, complicates the listener’s sense of reality and technology.

Mobility Many artists have been drawn to using PV in their work for the sole reason that it enables mobility. Sometimes these works are in operation while on the move; or they may simply be untethered from the grid and relatively easy to be installed in remote or offgrid areas. Benoît Maubrey is a French-American artist known for his outdoor sound installations and performances. His practice combines explorations into upcycling materials and wearable electronics. He began his career as a painter, but gravitated to making work outside. He found sound to be a particularly powerful and practical medium to

78  Part II

Figure 4.11  Christina Kubisch, Zwölf Klänge und ein Baum (2013). Courtesy the artist.

work with outdoors. Since 1989, he has been developing a wide ranging solar powered dance and sound performance project, called Solar Ballerinas (Figure 4.12). The project grew out of his experiments with electro-acoustic clothing, which he began in 1982. Working with electronics forced him to confront the issue of powering his devices. He was originally encouraged to begin working with solar power because, as he recounted, his partner had recently had a child and he needed to make money. At the time he perceived solar power as being trendy and mistakenly thought it would allow him to make money with his art practice. This proved to be misguided, although the work was very successful and would become a staple of his art practice for decades.56 Once Maubrey began working with PV, he quickly found they would be much more effective if they were positioned on a flat surface. He constructed a wearable plastic skirt, and when a dancer friend of his saw them, she explained to him that what he had built was essentially a tutu. From there, he says, it was an obvious jump to putting them on dancers for performances. The Solar Tutu is a clear plastic skirt that has solar cells, microphones, a digital audio sampler, radio receivers, amplifiers, and speakers mounted on it, as well as switches for controlling the effects and sample playback. In some performances, the Solar Tutu is augmented by instruments, umbrellas, rakes, metal rods, or sculptural objects, with piezo contact microphones on them, which the dancers use to further pickup and amplify their surroundings.57 When the solar cells were removed from the 3rd iteration of the tutus so they could do evening performances, the dance project was renamed as Audio Ballerinas.

Solar Art Comes Alive 79

Figure 4.12  Benoît Maubrey, Solar Ballerina performance (1990). Courtesy the artist.

In some cases, transient work may get its meaning from the fact that it is untethered from a fixed location. It may be able to communicate different things without the baggage of the meaning held in a specific site, or the motion itself may be symbolic of something important, like democratizing art or ephemerality. In other cases, it may relish in a changing scenery that creates dynamic meanings and is constantly recontextualized. For example, the Solar Ballerinas were invited to perform adjacent to an open coal mining area as part of the European Land Art Biennale in 1991. The proximity to the coal mine centered the use of solar power as an environmental benefit in a way that previous performances hadn’t.58 In this case, both the site changed the understanding of the piece, by making it appear more political and confrontational, and the performance changed the understanding of the site, by bringing the environmental damage into greater view. This work is interesting also, because many criticisms of greenwashing have been levelled at land art that cosmetically covered up the evidence of corporate malfeasance. This performance also called attention to the area, without physically hiding the evidence of environmental destruction.

Site Specificity Site specific works have to critically respond to or design around the unique attributes of a given environment. This can pertain to ecology, architecture, economics, inhabitants, social structures, or history, among many other nuanced and unique attributes that make up a place’s identity. The problem solving necessary to adequately address these issues requires the practitioner to have an understanding of the issue in that particular context.59 Some level of site specificity is always possible to tease out with PV work exposed to sunlight, because it is inherently environmentally responsive.

80  Part II

Figure 4.13  Christina Kubisch, Dreaming of a Major Third: The Clocktower Project (1997), view from the clocktower. Courtesy the artist.

The latitude, weather, and light obstructions will always be important considerations, and their impact will depend on how the PV elements are installed. However, this does not necessarily make a PV work site specific. In many instances, the work may only need to consider general PV principles that may be approached the same regardless of the location, just by substituting different numbers into the equations. Christina Kubisch’s installation Dreaming of a Major Third: The Clocktower Project (1997) (Figure 4.13) is one of the defining works in the area of site specific PV art, because it ties the fundamental cycle and variable nature of solar power to the historic characteristics of the site.60 The installation is located at the top of an 80 foot clocktower at MASS MoCA in North Adams, Massachusetts (Figure 4.14). The museum occupies a large complex of former industrial buildings and grounds that had been used for manufacturing since at least the late 1800s.61 The clocktower had rung continuously, every 15 minutes, from when it was built in 1895 through the closing of the last factory to be in operation at that site, in 1986. Kubisch was interested in the historical architectural and aural character of the town and sought to bring those aspects back into public consciousness. The installation explores the history of the site through the use of PV as a sensor and time-keeping instrument. Time-keeping projects have a clear minimalist and poetic relationship to the sun. The minimalist ideal of an intuitive relationship between form and function and repetition is very present in this work. By tying the temporal aspect of solar technology to the history and cultural role time played in this location, it transforms this environmentally responsive function into a site-specific activation.

Solar Art Comes Alive 81

Figure 4.14  Christina Kubisch, Dreaming of a Major Third: The Clocktower Project (1997), Courtesy MASS MoCA, photo Tom Adams/Reelife Productions and Folktography.

82  Part II Kubisch created a sound library of recordings she made playing the clocktower’s bells with both traditional and experimental techniques. She developed an algorithmic composition to play back these sounds according to the output of the solar cells in real time. The work is not powered by solar power, but rather uses it as a sensor. A computer program, developed in collaboration with the engineer Manfred Fox, plays the composition, adjusting its output according to the data it receives from PV modules placed around the edges of the tower. The voltage influences how samples are selected and mixed. In bright conditions, the sound is in a more major key, while in greyer conditions it is more of a minor key. In addition to the weather and time dependent sounds, predetermined brief pieces of music would play at 9am and 5pm.62 Algorithmic composition is the practice of designing a musical piece based on a system or instructions. By adding in environmental variables that manipulate the score in real-time it keeps the piece dynamic and avoids repetition. What could become a seemingly cold and unemotional computing process, as it repeats over and over again, can be given more nuance and feeling when responding to its environment. In the evenings, the music would stop playing and the clock faces would light up.

Circuit Aesthetics The aesthetics of the circuit itself have fascinated artists for some time and there are many reasons that an artist may be drawn to them. It may be that, by displaying something that is out of sight in daily life, it recontextualizes something commonplace. It may be about minimizing materials for environmental, economic, or aesthetic reasons. It might be about attempting to create a clear relationship between form and function. It might be educational. With the BEAM circuits, it was the result of the upcycling ethos. Whatever the reason, the clear and simple ability to demonstrate and manipulate electricity with a PV module has made it useful for artists interested in the aesthetics of circuits themselves. PV cells are unique electrical components, because they require exposure to the outside world and cannot be hidden away inside of an enclosure, which lends itself to the sensibilities of practitioners whose circuits are in public view. There are a variety of names that some of these circuit designs techniques can take. Free form, point-to-point, or simply exposed circuitry are a few terms for these devices when they’re using traditional electronic components. Other materials can also be used, including the domains of soft-circuits, which generally refers to textiles; paper circuits, which may use paper and conductive tape; and various approaches involving pencil drawings, prints, or paintings. Joyce Hinterding’s art practice explores electricity and electromagnetism, often through aestheticizing electrical components. She uses sculpture as a way to explore the poetics of the infrastructure that enables serendipitous accumulations and transmissions of energy. Sound is a way to draw out and expose the pervasive and hidden properties of energy. Her works often use recording, monitoring, or sensor technologies, like antennas, to identify and capture these latent energies.63 The Oscillators (1995) (Figure 4.15) is composed of three large drawings that function as electrical circuits, powered by a solar module mounted on the gallery wall next to them. The drawings are made with graphite and silver leaf. Hinterding was able to remove all the traditional electronic components from the circuit drawings, except for a single transistor and piezo speaker.64 The circuits are all ostensibly

Solar Art Comes Alive 83

Figure 4.15  Joyce Hinterding, The Oscillators (1995). Courtesy the artist.

identical phase shift oscillators, but because they are hand drawn, they each produce slightly different sounds. The result is a sound that is suggestive of cicadas. Had the piece been composed from more traditional electrical elements, it would have produced a cleaner and more easily identifiable synthesized sine wave. Hinterding sought to interrogate the role of common materials and reframe the viewer’s understanding of their possible functions. Hinterding writes that by using such minimal and common materials the viewer was able to more easily associate the sounds with what they think of as natural and appreciate that they are witnessing a naturally occurring phenomenon.65 Had the installation used more traditional electrical components that were unfamiliar to the viewer, they would have been restricted in their ability to make new associations with their experience. The drawings are made on watercolor paper. In addition to the visual contrast with a traditional hard plastic circuit board, the material is dynamic. Fine, 100% rag watercolor paper replaces the inert plastic of a circuit board; but watercolor paper is not inert: it is an absorbing material that swells and contracts with changes in humidity, altering the dynamic relations of the system and changing the sound. Human proximity has the marked effect of lowering the pitch of the sound: the moisture in the breath instigates a subtle swelling in paper thickness, changing the size of one of the components.66 She built a sensitive and precarious circuit that mirrored the variability of the PV. The changing physical properties of the piece required particular and unconventional maintenance. It required periodic erasing of small amounts of graphic, to increase resistance, in order to keep it audible over time.

84  Part II

An Expanding Field of PV Art The increasing accessibility of PV led to a significant amount of artistic exploration in these first decades of creative practice. By the end of the 1990s, a wide range of work had emerged that explored the particular affordances, communicative abilities, and poetics of solar energy. These artworks expanded the public’s understanding of the technology. The motivations for the practitioners to turn to solar varied widely, spanning environmental, political, social, financial, and technical reasons. In some cases, solar was considered a political decision based on an environmental or anti-war mentality. Some artists turned to solar because it allowed them to site work in remote areas, while others appreciated the aspect of chance it introduced into their projects. Jürgen Claus coined the phrase “Form follows energy,”67 which sums up these different approaches well. His call for a new solar aesthetic that would spark the imagination while demonstrating the technology was in reference to houses, but it is a strong sentiment and can be applied widely. What all of these artists have in common is an interest in designing around the unique affordances and attributes of the energy source.

Notes 1 Janne Koski, “Aurinko–Sun: Solar Art at the Rauma Art Museum, Finland” Leonardo 31, no. 2 (1998): 81–86, doi:10.2307/1576508. 2 Conversation between Alex Nathanson and Ted Victoria, December 16, 2020. 3 Software: Information technology: its new meaning for art (New York: The Jewish Museum, 1970), 40–41. 4 Photoresistors do not generate electricity, but rather change their electrical properties when exposed to light. 5 “Scenes,” The Village Voice, August 10, 1967, 7. Art historian Charles Eppley attributes the discovery of this article that definitively dates this artwork to musicologist Corey Matthews. 6 Neuhaus described this work in a handwritten note accompanying his 1993 drawing that illustrated the installation. 7 Charles A. Eppley, “Soundsites: Max Neuhaus, Site-Specificity, and the Materiality of Sound as Place” (PhD diss., State University of New York at Stony Brook, 2017), 130. 8 Edward A. Shanken, Art and Electronic Media (New York: Phaidon Press Inc, 2009), 280. 9 It does not appear that Jones ever wrote a definitive description of what constituted a zitar. In 2007, the Indian musician Niladri Kumar invented an instrument that is a cross between a sitar and an electric guitar, which is also called a zitar, though the two are unrelated. 10 “Joe Jones, an Artist With a Musical Bent And an Inventor, 58” The New York Times, February 18, 1993. B11. 11 Joe Jones, Music Machines and Fluxus Projects (Asolo: Francesco Conz, 1979) 1. 12 Jones, Joe, “Solar Music Tent, “notes on solar music (Edition Telemark, 1982). 13 “World Average Photovoltaic Module Cost per Watt, 1975–2006,” Earth Policy Institute, accessed January 11,2021, http://www.earth-policy.org/data_center/C23. 14 $17.17 in 1977 is equivalent to about $73.61 in 2020. Note that this price per watt was originally sourced as $58.92 in 2007 dollars and adjusted to 1977 dollars for consistency within the text. 15 Frank Rizzo, “Blip! Dollop! Twink! Quoop! It’s all just music to their ears,” New Haven CT Journal Courier, April 9, 1979, 41. Courtesy of Peter Blamey. 16 Alvin Lucier and Arthur Margolin, “Conversation with Alvin Lucier” Perspectives of New Music 20, no. 1/2 (Autumn 1981): 50-58, doi:10.2307/942399.

Solar Art Comes Alive 85 17 Alvin Lucier, Interview with Alex Nathanson on November 12, 2018. 18 Jürgen Claus, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, 2020. 19 Jürgen Claus, “The SolArt Global Network ’95: Artworks for the Solar Age,” Leonardo 28, no. 2 (1995); 143, doi:10.2307/1576136. 20 Jürgen Claus, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, 2020. 21 Jürgen Claus, “The SolArt Global Network ’95: Artworks for the Solar Age,” 143. 22 Jürgen Claus, “Art for the Solar Age,” Leonardo 36, no. 3 (2003): 175–76, doi:10.2307/1577357. 23 Leonardo 28, no. 2, 3, 4 (1995) and Leonardo 29, no. 1 (1996). 24 Jürgen Claus, “The SolArt Global Network ’95: Artworks for the Solar Age,” 143. 25 Jürgen Claus, “Art for the Solar Age,” 175–76. 26 Jürgen Claus, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, 2020. 27 R Tölle and TM Bruton, “Development of Bi-functional Photovoltaic Modules for Building Integration. ‘BIMODE’,” BP Solar, 1999. 28 Dave Hrynkiw,, “20 Years of BEAM Technology,” Solarbotics, November 18, 2009, https://solarbotics.com/20-years-of-beam-technology/. 29 Fred Hapgood, “Chaotic Robots,” Wired Magazine, September 1, 1994, https://www. wired.com/1994/09/tilden/. 30 A. K. Dewdney, “Photovores.” Scientific American 267, no. 3 (1992): 42–43, doi:10.2307/24939210. 31 Brosl Hasslacher, and Mark W. Tilden, “Living Machines,” Robotics and Autonomous Systems 15, no. 1–2 (July 1995): 143–69, doi:10.1016/0921-8890(95)00019-C. 32 Hasslacher, and Tilden, 143–69. 33 Hasslacher, and Tilden, 143–69. 34 Hasslacher, and Tilden, 143–69. 35 Stephen Strauss, “Don’t Throw out That Old Calculator Mark Tilden Wants It for a Mini-Robot That Might Come Alive,” The Globe and Mail, January 9, 1993, A1. 36 Hapgood, “Chaotic Robots.” 37 “BEAM Timeline,” accessed November 6, 2020, https://web.archive.org/web/20150210111851/ http://www.beam-wiki.org/wiki/BEAM_Timeline. 38 “Solarbotics.net,” accessed November 6, 2020, www.solarbotics.net. 39 Dave Hrynkiw, Interview with Alex Nathanson on January 17, 2020. 40 Dave Hrynkiw, Interview with Alex Nathanson on January 17, 2020. 41 Dave Hrynkiw, Interview with Alex Nathanson on January 17, 2020. 42 Dave Hrynkiw, Interview with Alex Nathanson on January 17, 2020. 43 Érik Samakh, Interview with Alex Nathanson on November 16, 2020. 44 https://www.digitalartarchive.at/database/general/work/terrain-01.html 45 Ulrike Gabriel, “Terrain_01,” accessed November 12, 2020, http://ulrikegabriel.com/ terrain_01_e.html. 46 Volker Grassmuck, “Let There Be Light: A Scared Conversation with Bob O’Kane,” accessed November 12, 2020, https://www.ntticc.or.jp/pub/ic_mag/ic014/volker/volker_ e.html. 47 Grassmuck, “Let There Be Light: A Scared Conversation with Bob O’Kane.” 48 “Terrain_02: Solar Robot Environment for Two Users,” Intercommunication Center, accessed January 11, 2021, https://www.ntticc.or.jp/en/archive/works/terrain-02-solarrobot-environment-for-two-users/ 49 Ulrike Gabriel, Interview with Alex Nathanson on January 4, 2021. 50 Allan Giddy, Interview with Alex Nathanson on February 12, 2019. 51 Allan Giddy, Interview with Alex Nathanson on January 5, 2020. 52 Allan Giddy, “Clock (1993),” accessed January 11, 2021, https://allangiddy.org/?p=174. 53 Allan Giddy, Interview with Alex Nathanson on February 12, 2019. 54 Christina Kubisch, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, December 2020. 55 “Bonn Urban Sound Art 2013: Christina Kubisch” Bonn Hoeren, PDF, 2013. 56 Benoît Maubrey, interview with Alex Nathanson on January 10, 2020. 57 Benoît Maubrey, “Audio Jackets and Other Electroacoustic Clothes,” Leonardo 28, no. 2 (1995): 93, doi:10.2307/1576129.

86  Part II 58 Benoît Maubrey, “Performances with Electroacoustic Clothes: Solar Ballerinas,” accessed January 10, 2020, http://www.benoitmaubrey.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/SolarBallerinas.pdf. 59 Barbara C. Matilsky, Fragile Ecologies: Contemporary Artists’ Interpretations and Solutions (New York : Rizzoli International, 1992) 47. 60 Laura Heon, “In Your Ear: Hearing Art in the Twenty-First Century,” Organised Sound 10, no. 2 ( 2005): 91–96, doi:10.1017/S1355771805000725. 61 “History,” MASS MoCA, accessed November 10, 2020, https://massmoca.org/about/ history/. 62 Larry Smallwood, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, 2020. 63 Douglas Kahn, Earth Sound Earth Signal: Energies and Earth Magnitude in the Arts (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2013), 237–54. 64 Joyce Hinterding, “The Oscillators,” accessed November 7, 2020, http://www.haineshinterding.net/1996/04/28/the-oscillators/. 65 Joyce Hinterding, “Contributors’ Notes: The Oscillators,” Leonardo Music Journal 6, (1996): 113–14, doi:10.2307/1513331. 66 Joyce Hinterding, “Contributors’ Notes: The Oscillators,” Leonardo Music Journal 6, (1996): 113–14, doi:10.2307/1513331. 67 Jürgen Claus, “Art for the Solar Age,” 175–76.

Part III

5

Textiles and Wearables

In the early 2000’s, a range of solar cell integration into textiles and wearable devices began to emerge.1 Earlier examples of wearable PV consumer products, like solar powered watches, were relatively small in scale and restricted to a limited number of products. Similarly, earlier work by artists like Benoît Maubrey approached wearable solar from a sculptural perspective. They were far removed from the mass-market applications, couture designs, and critically engaged artistic practices rooted in craft traditions that emerged in this era. Over the last 20 years the scale, type, and uses have far exceeded those that came before them. The drive for PV wearables and textiles comes from the growing need to power increasingly prevalent wearable and portable electronic devices, and the possibilities for textile techniques and materials to improve aspects of the more traditional PV industry. Even more so than with other areas of device integrated PV, the textile and wearable solar power space is inundated with products that make outlandish claims, exist purely to garner publicity, and greenwash, without any real commitment to functionality, much less ecological concerns. In contrast, the designers highlighted throughout this chapter are thinking critically about the design challenges and making these technologies more accessible and usable. The objects that have been created include soft and flexible clothing and bags, rigid hard-edged wearable accessories, devices like lighting fixtures, and architectural applications. The work of research scientists in labs, commercial designers, and artists developing PV wearable devices and textiles highlights numerous interesting challenges and presents a number of possible opportunities to address them. Textiles and wearables share a number of techniques, applications and concepts, but diverge in a number of key ways. Textiles have many uses beyond garments, ranging from high-tech applications in architecture and medicine to traditional uses, like tents, rugs and sails. While wearables can rely heavily on textiles, they can also be made of any material, including rigid materials. Wearable PV technology encompasses anything the individual user would wear or, in some cases, carry on their person. PV wearables typically refer to end products and are most often part of an integrated system. In addition to the PV cells or modules, this system generally includes wiring, batteries, power regulating circuitry, and either a plug, like a USB port, or an integrated electrical load, like LEDs. Textiles encompass a broad range of both natural and synthetic materials that are turned into flexible cloth through a variety of manufacturing techniques. These materials, in the form of individual fibers, tapes, or yarns, can be turned into fabric through methods that can include weaving, knitting, crocheting, knotting, or felting. 2

90  Part III Textile-based PV devices are used in a range of applications, particularly where light weight substrates or flexibility is required. There are two expansive categories that materials and products in the textile PV space may fall into. It encompasses both traditional PV cells integrated into existing cloth materials as well as the creation of new textile or textile-like materials with PV properties. The simpler, more common, and, at the time of this writing, commercially viable approach is attaching PV cells to a textile. In keeping with the terminology used in other areas of PV design, the term used to describe this is textile integrated photovoltaics (TIPV). PV integration in textiles describes PV cells or modules permanently attached to a textile. In some instances, they can be removable if the PV elements were designed holistically as a core part of the design. PV elements may also provide other functions for the textile beyond just producing power. TIPV is generally not considered a true solar textile. The second approach, which can be either textiles with PV properties or, alternatively, PV materials with textile properties, is referred to as photovoltaic textiles (PVT). PVT research has explored a huge range of cell types in a variety of formats, that span beads, threads, films, coatings, and more. Within both of these broad categories, there is a wide range of materials, techniques, electrical characteristics, and visual aesthetics that can be produced. Under today’s technological limitations, TIPV often results in greater energy production than PVT. Both TIPV and PVT can refer to either a semi-raw material that could be made into a product or the end product itself. One of the unique contributions to the broader realm of PV from the domain of wearable and textile technologies is the ability of these objects to communicate complex ideas through design and use. Textiles have an incredible ability to communicate complex meanings through their pattern and function. Even the decision to show or hide the electronic components can convey cultural significance. The ability for an object to communicate or establish meaning and social value is dependent on a complex interaction of factors, such as perception of its utility, perceived visual aesthetic quality, and societal norms. These complex meanings, which can be read in all objects, come to the forefront when an object is worn on the body and personal fashion is involved. Dress can be considered as a type of communication interface, allowing the wearer to express complex ideas and emotions to others in their environment. 3 Pattern is both an aesthetic and technical tactic that is a core component of the textile industry. It functions as a visual design and as a method for assembling a garment. Pattern is also present in the more traditional areas of the PV industry. It is a crucial component to PV cell design, module design, and array layout. This impacts the efficiency and cost of installing a PV system, as well as the public perception of solar power. This connection is one of the reasons that lessons learned in this field potentially have broad reaching implications throughout the industry. The deep understanding of communication through design that many textile designers have is relevant to the many areas of the PV industry that rely heavily on pattern. This ability for communication and the important cultural roles of textiles has also enabled this space to be a fruitful area for critical examination of this industry through creative practice. The fashion industry is innately tied to industrialization and capitalism, the driving forces of climate change, which is ripe for critique. The industry will also be deeply impacted, as all industries will, by climate change.4 While there are many challenges to working with PV textiles, the diverse and innovative techniques that have been developed to address them have opened up space for

Textiles and Wearables 91 new possibilities across the entire PV industry. The field of PV textiles and wearables has much to offer in terms of technical and social value in any discussion of PV.

Wearable Electronics Wearable technology can include a dizzying range of materials, tools, and techniques. Every advance within the long history of humans working with fabrics, from innovations with the material itself to the tools used to refine, produce, and distribute the item, falls within the space of textile technology. Throughout human history, textiles and fashion have been closely aligned with the technologies available to humans in that period.5 The origins of the modern conception of wearable technology began primarily in the context of military research in the World War II era. In the post-war period, these technologies, which encompassed both new synthetic materials, like nylon used for tents and parachutes, and electronics, like early heads-up displays for pilots, moved from military applications into academic labs and commercial industries.6 By the 1970s and 1980s, practical portable wearable electronics, like Sony’s Walkman, had entered mainstream commercial markets. Electronic devices increasingly became smaller, portable, and computerized. By the late 1980s, the stage was set for the emergence of ubiquitous computing. This term was popularized by the computer scientist Mark Weiser to describe the invisible, pervasive, mobile, and networked form computers would take in the coming decades.7 Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, the aesthetics and techniques of wearable computing devices continued to evolve. The increasing necessity to be continuously connected via cell phones and, eventually, the internet was one of the primary drivers for the growth in the industry. These trends in telecommunications and entertainment dovetailed with other adjacent industries, particularly wireless sensors, to create a large and growing market for portable networked electronic products and the data they produced. Today, wearable electronic devices are commonly used for numerous purposes across a wide range of domains. A few of the most common consumer applications include medical and sports monitoring and analytics, independence and mobility aids for the elderly and disabled, and human–computer interfaces for communications and entertainment devices.8 Industrial and military applications also occupy large sections of this industry. These industries required new and more autonomous energy sources that were invisible and painless to the user. Batteries have traditionally supplied the power for wearable electronics. In order to avoid constantly needing to be recharged or replaced, larger batteries were used, which increased the size and weight of these devices. As these portable devices became smaller and more energy efficient, they required less power to operate. It started to become possible to power them from energy produced by the device itself, a process referred to as energy harvesting. For low energy devices in particular, the potential methods for harvesting energy are vast. These methods include PV energy, electromagnetic energy, kinetic energy, thermal energy, and triboelectric energy. All of these methods have distinct pros and cons and are better suited for some situations or users than others. These energies can come from both external sources, as in the case of solar, and internal sources, like the motion of the wearer’s body.9 Susan Elizabeth Ryan, who has written extensively on wearable technology, argues that wearable technology research exists largely to produce marketing concepts and enable surveillance systems that make capitalist enterprises increasingly invasive.10

92  Part III As portable networked electronic devices grew smaller and less visible they increasingly took on a surveillance role by collecting growing volumes of data. These devices are largely presented to the public as an unqualified good. The perception of these devices among many consumers is that data collection is a trade-off between the user and a service provider for cheaper services, personalization, or a frictionless lifestyle.11 The value of this data and the dangers of underplaying the lack of privacy are rarely at the forefront, until an egregious misuse is made public or a data breach occurs. The real-world consequences of this haphazard accumulation of seemingly innocuous personal information was illustrated in 2017 by the fitness tracker company Strava. They released a visualization of exercise data they had collected that inadvertently divulged details of military bases around the world.12 Ryan frames the space of wearable electronics as existing between two poles, positivist enthusiasm and critical engagement.13 The positivist approach is often concerned with invisibility and functionality. Hidden devices are restricted in their capacity for social communication and public statement. While these discrete devices are asocial, the data they accumulate is increasingly public. This has the effect of minimizing the division between private and public life, creating an atmosphere of being always on, connected, traceable, quantifiable, and monetizable.14 The visible position is often a critical position. In this position, frequently employed by artists rather than industry, technology is typically used to enhance, exaggerate, or highlight the social dimensions of dress. The conceptual division between obfuscation and display within the domain of wearable electronics has important implications for the broader PV industry. Not only do these two positions imply different visual aesthetics, but the level of visibility of a technology has important social dimensions and helps establish meaning for it within a given culture. The visibility of the infrastructural changes necessary for addressing climate change can impact sustainable behavior and the public’s perception of the climate crisis.15 Within the garment design field, prioritizing the environmental impact of a product is commonly known as eco-fashion. Eco-fashion argues for a more environmentally sustainable production and consumption of garments. Negative environmental impacts can occur at every point along the life of a product, from production to consumption to disposal. While these negative impacts are present in many facets of the textile industry, they are particularly prevalent within the fashion industry. There is a seemingly inherent contradiction between fashion and environmental sustainability. The fashion industry is concerned with novelty and must be constantly in flux. The industry can be characterized by the fast rate at which something becomes outdated. In contrast, sustainability is primarily understood as the capacity to continue for an extended period of time. Whether the sustainability in question refers to the consumption of natural resources, relevance of a particular style, or durability of a particular garment, the current state of the fashion industry is not sustainable.16 The eco-fashion space is often framed by contrasting technocentric and ecocentric points of view.17 This division is present throughout most industries grappling with the changes that the climate crisis is forcing. The technocentric position posits that science and technology can tame nature and fix most problems, without necessarily addressing underlying systemic issues. This position does not view capitalist expansion in opposition to sustainability. The ecocentric position is primarily concerned with the negative impacts of industry and endless growth. This view is not necessarily anti-technology. Rather, it

Textiles and Wearables 93 questions the need for unfettered expansion. It focuses on new models of production and consumption, often with a social component. From the perspective of ecocentric attire, the response to climate change may be a non-technological form of clothing that relies on easily repairable materials or encourages empathy or awareness.18 In this framework, while the fashion industry is inseparable from capitalist consumption, fashion culture is not and can be reimagined to be sustainable.19 Eco-fashion is ultimately a claim for a multifunctional product that is both fashionable and ecologically sustainable. Ironically, it is clear from both analyzing reviews of eco-fashion products, particularly prior to 2015, and academic studies20 that eco-fashion has a reputation for not being aesthetically pleasing. For many products, the claim of ecological sustainability is also suspect and greenwashing is commonplace within the fashion industry. Companies and consumers alike use eco-fashion design strategies, such as the ability to signal environmental values through materials and patterns, for greenwashing. A textile product with a PV cell attached to it should not be assumed to be ecologically sustainable, even though it is often presented as if it is. Adding electronic components to textiles significantly increases their environmental costs. Addressing the environmental impact of wearable electronics is a challenge that requires intentional decision making at an early design stage. 21 When analyzing the value of solar power textiles, the environmental impact must take into account what energy source it is replacing, along with other standard metrics for analyzing environmental impacts, like a life cycle analysis. It is important to distinguish between the environmental, social, and economic impacts of fashion technologies. These technologies may be beneficial or detrimental for various reasons, but must be understood within their specific context. For example, a bag with an integrated PV light has a very different value in an area with high levels of energy poverty, where the light may be replacing a kerosene lamp or no light at all, than it does for someone in an area with easy access to clean energy. In the former context, the value may be environmental as well as economic and social. In the latter context, the use of TIPV may ultimately be environmentally negative, but there may still be other types of benefits that warrant its use. This raises important questions about the extent to which these consumer products are ecologically necessary. It is important to not overvalue personal behavioral changes at the expense of more impactful systemic changes, like government regulation and corporate accountability. The influential designer Pauline van Dongen has argued that in the context of the climate emergency and the lack of a response in the fashion industry, TIPV products are important to advance technologies and encourage cultural shifts that are increasingly necessary.22 Many of the technologies discussed here are still not routinely manufactured at large scales. In that light, they can be seen less as luxury goods and more as demonstrations that have yet to be produced properly at scale, not unlike the high cost of more traditional solar devices before manufacturing efficiencies, government subsidies, market growth, and other forces brought costs down. In contrast to the dominant technocentric approach of mainstream applications that value invisibility, wearable electronic artistic practice serves as an important critical check on the increasing prevalence of these technologies. In addition to concerns around technology, wearable electronic art is deft at commenting on issues related to gender, bodies, social interaction, the environment, and labor. As with the rest of the wearable technology space, artists working with this technology have their roots in the very long history of textile art and craft.

94  Part III The social importance and extensive communication capabilities of dress make it a crucial and historically under considered area of contemporary art. 23 One of the earliest examples of work in this space is Atsuko Tanaka’s 1956 work, Electric Dress. The media art historian Edward Shanken described the work as “a seminal moment in the history of electronic art for its audacious display of technology, the female body and the convergence of the two… Tanaka’s decision to wear the dress at a public art exhibition in Tokyo was a particularly brazen act in a culture where women were expected to stay in traditional roles and out of the spotlight.”24 Over the seven decades since, wearable electronic art has taken a vast range of forms and has often involved ideas relating to cybernetics. Beyond wearables, there are many other avenues for critical artistic discourse that combine electronics and textiles. These can include the creation of flags, tapestries, installations, and sculptures.

Textile Integrated Photovoltaics In the early 2000s, numerous individual designers and companies began to produce garments with integrated PV. While most of these devices were produced for commercial purposes, not all of them were intended to be mass produced. Many of these early designs only reached the prototype stage, or were small-run couture designs that couldn’t be efficiently produced at large scales. These projects highlight a range of important challenges and the design decisions required to overcome them. The choice of PV, wiring, and fabric type, as well as the attachment methods must be aligned to account for the mechanical differences between the various materials. With a TIPV device, a pre-existing PV cell or module is attached to a pre-made fabric. While there are many design and manufacturing challenges with TIPV, they are easier to overcome than those found in PVT. There are a wide range of application methods for attaching the PV component to the material. The best choice depends on the type, electrical characteristics, and layout of the PV cells, the underlying material, and its intended end use. A bad design runs the risk of either damaging the electrical components or not retaining the properties of the textile, such as flexibility, elasticity, breathability, and tactility that are important for user comfort. PV elements can be sewed, laminated, glued, buttoned, and clipped in place. In addition to PV attachment methods, there are also numerous wiring strategies that are employed to connect cells to one another and other system components. The type of conductor, its location on the garment, and the attachment method are important considerations. Wires can be woven into fabric or sewn on. Conductivity in textiles can also be achieved through the use of various types of conductive threads and inks. As with other electrical components, the stress caused by the mechanical differences between materials can damage wiring or electrical connections. It is notable that while textile integrated electronics is a relatively new phenomenon, conductive materials like gold have been integrated into fabric for decorative purposes for thousands of years, particularly in India and ancient Egypt. 25 Creating a positive user experience is particularly challenging for wearable TIPV because the technology is not typically soft, pliable, or lightweight. In addition to comfort, the user experience of a PV wearable is dependent on its perceived functionality. Most consumers expect a device they purchase, particularly an article of clothing, to be intuitive and work with little training. The unknown behaviors of

Textiles and Wearables 95 the wearer, the environments they inhabit, and, in some cases, the electrical load on the system makes this particularly hard to design for. In a traditional PV array, predicting the sun exposure that the PV modules will receive is relatively straightforward, and accuracy is crucial for properly sizing the system to the needed loads. The amount of sun exposure a garment will receive is unpredictable, primarily because it is difficult to know how much time the wearer will spend in direct sunlight. It is also not possible to predict the angle of incidence. There is relatively little surface area on the human body where PV would receive direct sunlight, even when outdoors. Studies looking at the area of the body exposed to direct light found that they could only use 0.1–0.3 square meters. For an amorphous silicon solar cell with 5% efficiency it would be able to produce 5–15 watts of power. 26 While this is still a useful amount of power for many small applications, it is tiny when considering the total potential surface area of a garment and when contrasted with other PV domains. One of the primary devices these products are intended to charge are cell phones. Over the last few decades, the battery capacities and energy consumption characteristics of these devices have changed dramatically. Around 2004, the time that TIPV products began to appear in greater numbers, many cell phones were using batteries with capacities ranging from 900mAh-1500mAh. Today’s smartphones consume significantly more energy and take longer to charge. As of 2019, most smartphone battery capacities are in the range of 3000mAh-4000mAh. 27 As battery capacities grew, it was likely harder for a user to have a satisfactory experience with TIPV products. Because of all of these challenges, and particularly issues around user comfort, bags and coats were some of the first TIPV wearables to be produced that were practical to both manufacture and use. These objects provided more structure and padding than other wearables to minimize the negative impacts of the hard surfaces and weight of the electrical components. Aside from the presence of the PV modules themselves, the visual aesthetic of a heavy TIPV coat doesn’t necessarily need to change much. A bag can also easily mask the presence of electronics. TIPV devices emerged nearly simultaneously from both commercial interests, like high-end fashion and outdoor sporting goods companies, and need-based social good organizations addressing energy poverty. The Portable Light Project is a non-profit research and design initiative, launched in 2005, that provides access to clean energy and light to people in energy impoverished regions all over the world. The project was created by KVA MATx, the materials research wing of the architecture firm Kennedy & Violich Architecture. The project centers around a TIPV kit that local partners can assemble into energy harvesting lamps using local materials and their own culturally specific textile craft traditions. Rather than a fixed design, the kit is adapted for each context and has certain design parameters that can then be applied in an open ended way. The kit generally includes a flexible PV module, LED light, and battery with USB port. The system is able to charge the battery in 6 hours of direct sunlight and is capable of powering the light for 20 hours.

TIPV Bags Two of the earliest bag companies that produced TIPV products that the public could actually purchase were Noon Solar, founded in 2003, and Voltaic Systems, founded in 2004. Well designed and reliable TIPV products have generally always been expensive,

96  Part III with many of them priced high enough to be considered luxury goods. Noon Solar’s handbags retailed for around $300 and up28 and were aimed at the high fashion market, while Voltaic Systems’ initial backpack retailed for $229 and was aimed at users interested in outdoor activities and traveling.29 These types of products are still sometimes seen as outlandish, but at the time, when people relied on personal electronics less than they do now, that impression was even stronger. By 2010, the types of bags on the market had grown significantly, encompassing backpacks, messenger bags, bike rack-mountable bags, beach totes, laptop cases, and handbags. These products ranged from about $200 to $1300. Today, there are even more options. Voltaic Systems continues to be a leader in integrating PV into bags, but has also expanded their business to other areas of the PV industry. Their products typically use extremely durable urethane coated monocrystalline solar modules. They offer products and services across a range of consumer and business-to-business applications, which include portable solar panels and battery packs for powering consumer electronics, providing custom solar panels, and powering remote networked sensors for business applications. Regardless of how well engineered PV-integrated consumer products may be, there is still a big disconnect between the public’s perception of how an integrated PV device should work and reality. Voltaic Systems’ website includes a blog with tutorials and other educational content intended in part to address this need and educate their customers on how to make the most out of their products. Noon Solar was founded by Marianne Fairbanks and Jane Palmer to commercialize PV integrated bags they had been developing, under the moniker JAM, for a couple of years prior. JAM started working with PV in 2001, but their first foray into integrating it in wearable textiles was Personal Power (2003). For Fairbanks and Palmer, the work was a small, but exciting, political response to feeling powerless in the face of the oil-driven invasion of Iraq. The work responded to this feeling of powerlessness by providing an alternative to the US government’s fossil fuel centric and militarized energy policies. The ability to, at least symbolically, disconnect from the culture they viewed as unethical and exploitative, via a wearable alternative energy power unit, was energizing for the collective, and it became a central aspect of their practice. Noon Solar produced a number of high-end handbags between 2003 and 2010 (Figure 5.1). Their solar bag designs all featured a large thin-film solar cell on one of the bag’s sides, with pouches on the inside to hold the battery, charge controller, and other electrical components. An additional pouch was provided to hold the device the user chose to charge.30 The bags are predominantly leather and used natural dyes. Because Noon Solar bags were released when both the wearable electronics industry as a whole and the PV textile industry in particular were not nearly as developed and commonplace as they are today, Fairbanks and Palmer dealt with many challenges with prototyping, manufacturing, and managing customer expectations. The initial challenges they faced starting their company centered around trying to convince people that they were a viable business and that microscale solar was a market worth designing for. They faced challenges convincing suppliers to give them wholesale prices and finding engineers with the expertise required for this scale.31 As designers, they found PV cells and modules to be aesthetically frustrating to work with. Even with the thin film’s flexibility, the material could only bend in one direction. Further, they were still restricted to designing around a large rectangle. Using one large PV cell instead of multiple smaller cells enabled them to greatly

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Figure 5.1  Noon Solar, Satchel bag (2008). Courtesy Marianne Fairbanks.

streamline the manufacturing process, reducing their costs; even though it wasn’t the ideal visual solution. It is still uncommon for mass-produced TIPV products to use multiple small cells, because it would require additional soldering or other electrical work, which is a time-consuming and costly addition. While they originally set out to produce products at a cheaper price point, the high costs of manufacturing bags with this technology pushed them into the high-end market to be able to be profitable. This required designing products that were not only of a high-quality, but looked like they could fit within the aesthetic norms of that market and appeal to customers who could afford their work, further limiting their design options. Noon Solar worked hard to develop an attractive multifunctional product that the consumer could appreciate. Because of limitations in the technology and lack of consumer awareness about solar power, they were unable to design a product that could be easily deciphered. Most potential customers, particularly early on, had no idea what a solar cell looked like or how it worked. The function of the bag was not evident in its design and it had to be marketed very overtly. For Fairbanks, the hardest part of the business was the amount of customer education and customer service required.32 The company advertised charge times for the included battery of six to eight hours in direct sunlight and included a user manual, but it still was challenging.33 Helping customers understand the products and properly use them turned out to be a very time consuming job. Despite reasonable commercial success and public attention their company closed in 2010, due in no small part to the customer service demands. Fairbanks’ frustrations with the aesthetic limitations of existing solar technologies led her to imagine PV materials that were more dynamic and could fully engage with

98  Part III the communicative possibilities of a textile medium. The symbolism and communicative ability of textiles is often driven by pattern and utility. The ability to create PV materials that allowed for it to have some of the qualities of a textile, like irregular shapes, a fuller range of flexibility, and broader visual possibilities, would enable a stronger ability to convey meaning and tell stories. For Fairbanks, this involves a particular type of visual literacy that is often undervalued and misunderstood, particularly in western cultures. She says that our awareness of our ability to recognize patterns often relates to folk dress or capitalist branding, but our ability for pattern recognition far exceeds that and was historically more valued. This is particularly true when we consider the role of pattern in complex areas that involve assigning meaning, like value signaling and establishing a personal identity. She asks, what would it mean for the function of a solar module to be immediately clear and culturally relevant to the uninitiated viewer only by looking at the object?34 This thinking eventually led her to collaborate with chemist and electrical engineer Trisha Andrew to work on developing a PV cloth that could be malleable and potentially address many of these concerns. When Noon Solar was founded, they had almost no competitors and eco-fashion was still a relatively unknown concept for most consumers. By the time that Noon Solar closed, in 2010, more and more companies were producing TIPV products. The PR value and cultural cache of eco-fashion tech was also on the rise. One example of this rising status was a series of limited edition TIPV designer bags that were created for an Elle magazine charity auction in 2010, to support the Portable Light Project.35 While most of the bags featured here use one, or at most a few, PV components, the Eclipse (2011–13) bag by Danish design company Diffus, uses dozens of small cells in combination with some innovative design and assembly techniques.36 The PV cells are attached to the bag using a sequin embroidery process and connected with conductive thread. This bag uses monocrystalline cells and produces 2 watts. While the cells themselves aren’t flexible, that space between them is which allows the bag a lot of freedom of movement. The bag was designed so that when slung over the wearer’s shoulder their arm wouldn’t obscure the PV cells. The system charges a battery and powers interior lighting elements to help the user find items in the bag. In contrast to the luxury of couture clothing and the solar product as a PR tool, many of these technologies have crucial life-changing value to people in poverty and without access to electricity. Providing power to people living in areas without access to electricity is an important gap that many TIPV products attempt to fulfil. Initiatives like the Portable Light Project, Olafur Eliasson’s well known Little Sun (2012) project, and the Repurpose Schoolbag (2014) attempt to address this need. The Repurpose Schoolbag, produced by Rethaka, was made with 100% upcycled plastic bags. It features an integrated solar powered light. The goal of the project is to provide a waterproof bag for students and a light for them to do homework in the evenings, while decreasing plastic pollution. The children who receive these bags are typically from poor families that live in non-electrified areas and use candles or kerosene lamps to light their homes. Using fuel for homework is an added expense that many families can’t afford and kerosene, in particular, is a health and environmental hazard. The solar panel charges the battery on the student’s walk to and from school, providing up to 12 hours of light for children to do homework in the evenings. In addition to the practical uses of the bags, the company’s mission is to give children dignity, rather than being forced to carry their school materials in plastic bags or by hand over the long distances to and from school. 37

Textiles and Wearables 99 Rethaka is a for-profit South African company founded by Thato Kgatlhanye and Reabetswe Ngwane in 2011, when they were only 18 years old. Creating the company required them to develop a system for collecting the bags, because recycling infrastructure for plastic bags didn’t exist in their region. They created a system that included collecting plastic bags from landfills and using schools as drop off points for people to bring their plastic bags to be recycled. The plastic is processed to create a textile, which is then sewn into backpacks.38 The backpacks have a pouch on them where a solar powered LED light is located. When the user needs the light, they remove the device from the bag and attach it to a jar that is included when the children receive the bags, to create a lamp. The bags retailed for about $25 USD, but through partnerships and sponsorships with companies, thousands have been distributed for free to school children across Africa.39

TIPV Garments TIPV garments began emerging enmasse in the early 2000s. Prior to this era, TIPV was rare and few examples of it exist. Today, TIPV garments include shirts, jackets, dresses, pants, hats, and more, although the practical and aesthetic value may be in question. The first products to appear were PV jackets. The early jackets were primarily designed for either charging communication and entertainment devices or for powering safety lighting. Examples of PV integration into lighter weight garments are still few and far between. Because lighter weight garments have only a minimal structure to buffer the physical impacts of the electronic hardware, it is a particularly difficult area to work in. There are numerous examples of lighter weight wearables that serve as little more than outlandish PR stunts that probably wouldn’t function in real-world conditions, if they even work at all. Particularly glaring examples of this include solar powered lingerie and swimsuits that almost certainly do not work, which combine sex appeal and tech fetishization for a PR juggernaut without any real function. In 2004, the company SCOTTeVEST debuted a prototype of a solar powered jacket at the Consumer Electronics Show. Various versions of their jacket went on sale that year for prices ranging from $425–$535.40 The jacket used a 3W copper indium gallium diselenide (CIGS) solar module to charge a small battery with a USB port.41 Their jacket is notable because it is perhaps the first solar powered jacket to be sold publicly, but aside from the technological gee-whiz-ary of the gadget, it was received with mixed results and had a number of design flaws. Like all integrated PV products, the perception of how successfully it functioned was dependent on user behavior and expectations. While the device technically worked, it took many hours to fully charge the battery and the potential applications for it were limited. For example, because of the unique USB wiring configuration of some versions of the iPod, one of the most popular portable consumer devices at that time, the system was unable to charge them. SCOTTeVest’s product documentation makes it clear that this was a common customer concern, and the jacket would likely have been a disappointment to users who purchased it for use with these devices. The visual look of the device was also met with skepticism. Reviews ranged widely, from unstylish to fashionable42 to “nerdtastic.”43 Perhaps most notably, the solar panel was not fully integrated into the jacket, but would get strapped on to the back. This likely made it easier to manufacture and also enabled them to sell cheaper versions

100  Part III of the jacket without PV. The company produced 100 jackets and was only able to sell less than 50 of them.44 At the time, the CEO of the company, Scott Jordan, was quoted as saying that they estimated that this sort of technology would be in 30% of outerwear clothing within the next 5 years, a prediction that was wildly inaccurate.45 When interviewed in 2021, Jordan said that the motivation for producing the product was, “100% PR,” and that there isn’t enough surface area on the human body to make a practical solar integrated wearable product.46 While it wasn’t a successful product, the jacket did bring them a lot of publicity. Toward the end of that decade, more companies began producing TIPV jackets, but most of them only existed as functional demonstrations and weren’t commercially available. A number of these early projects were produced as part of the German Solartex project, an initiative bringing together PV researchers with industry. Two TIPV jackets funded by Solartex were produced in 2005. One was a jean jacket, produced by Bogner Jeans, intended to power entertainment devices. The other was a jacket with safety lights, intended for road construction work, produced by Tempex.47 In 2006, Maier Sports demoed a winter coat that was also produced through the Solartex project and never fully manufactured or offered for sale. This coat incorporated nine amorphous silicon modules to produce 2.5 watts of power.48 In more recent years, a growing number of TIPV jackets have become commercially available. Clothing companies generally do not have any expertise in PV or even wearable electronics. Their motivation to develop and sell these products is, more often than not, driven by PR departments catching on to a trend, like sustainability or wearable electronics, rather than fully committing to developing a long term product line. Once the decision is made to produce a TIPV product, the production team needs to figure out how to make it happen. Sometimes that means they need to reach out to a third party with this type of expertise to produce a functional and economical product. This is the case with Tommy Hilfiger, which collaborated with the company Pvilion on to produce a TIPV jacket in 2014, which retailed for $599. Pvilion specializes in designing and manufacturing flexible PV products. Their work is primarily focused on architectural applications, but also encompasses consumer products. They work with many companies to design and produce prototypes and product lines. Pvilion’s unique expertise is with their processes for laminating solar cells on to textiles. Colin Touhey, one of the founders of Pvilion, sees their role as helping their clients design at the cell level, rather than the module level. Because Pvilion produces their own materials, they can provide a higher resolution product, with smaller PV cells that can be manipulated and better integrated into a particular context. For Touhey, the biggest challenges when working with clothing companies are the company culture and production timelines. While many of these companies like to create the impression that they are innovating, they do not have what most people in the science and technology fields would call an R&D process. Touhey says it’s generally difficult to get clothing companies to commit to continuously iterating and producing larger order quantities. The typical design, production, and consumer feedback process when working with clothing companies could be as long as 24 months. That makes it hard to maintain momentum, because the clothing brand’s priorities have changed.49 The Dutch designer Pauline van Dongen has made some of the most impressive advances in the particularly challenging area of lighter weight garments that have pushed the boundaries of both the functionality and comfort of wearable solar

Textiles and Wearables 101 technologies. In addition to her strong visual aesthetic, what makes van Dongen’s work stand out is her focus on the experience of the wearer. Van Dongen’s approach to design draws heavily from post-phenomenology theories that focus on embodied experiences of technology. This approach considers how engaging with technology impacts one’s perception of the world and their behavior in the world, in both conscious and unconscious ways.50 Her iterative and research heavy practice has included a variety of PV technologies, wiring methods, and attachment techniques. With each iteration, she has been able to move these designs closer to the accessible consumer market and away from inaccessible handmade couture designs that cannot be efficiently mass produced. The Wearable Solar Dress (2013) (Figure 5.2) is a high-fashion couture garment that was designed to be able to charge a smartphone in 2 hours of direct sunlight. The dress combines a soft and lightweight wool fabric with a harder and heavier leather. The sturdy leather enabled the design to retain its shape and provide a more structural and protective substrate for the electrical components. Additionally, it acted as a buffer between the electronics and the wearer’s body. Seventy-two thin-film flexible cells were attached to the dress in series pairs and held in place by slits cut into the leather. By mounting the cells in pairs, the dress was freer to flex and drape, without being as restricted by the PV cells if she used larger cells or a contiguous solar module. This method also relieved mechanical strain from the cells themselves, because the areas between them were free to move. Van Dongen wanted to avoid a single panel that would have created a large rigid area and lacked visual appeal. The cells were placed in vertical columns, running along the sides of the upper part of the dress, on

Figure 5.2  Pauline van Dongen, Wearable Solar Dress (2013). Photo courtesy Mike Nicolaasen.

102  Part III both the front and back. Once mounted on the garment, the cells were then wired together. The need to solder the underside of the cells after they were installed in the dress was one of the primary barriers to scaling up the manufacturing of this design. Van Dongen embraced the user’s role in the function of the technology by including flaps that allowed them to expose the solar cells at their discretion, which would also change the silhouette of the dress. For van Dongen, this exploration of technology and visibility was particularly interesting in the context of solar cells. She says, What I’ve been very interested in with solar technology is basically what also came from the first solar dress that I made, this idea of concealing and revealing… solar cells always need to be exposed to the sun light or any light. So the technology inherently becomes this visible part of the garments, whereas a lot of technology within the wearable technology space is often hidden. I think with the solar cells, you can actually play with the patterning and the aesthetics of the cells, well much more than any other technology would allow for.51 The Solar Shirt (2015) (Figure 5.3) expanded on the lessons van Dongen learned from her experience with the dress. It attempted to be more accessible and look like less of a high-fashion item that could blend in with a user’s day-to-day wardrobe. The shirt is less gendered, more comfortable to wear, and more in line with social norms. The solar cells are positioned on the sides and shoulders of the shirt in a zigzag pattern. From a distance, the solar cells and circuitry look like they could be a traditional print. In order to move the shirt closer to a manufacturable and scalable product, the electronics needed to be less time consuming to attach and wire together. To accomplish this, van Dongen collaborated with the Holst Centre, a research center specializing in flexible electronics. They used a sheet to sheet process to print conductive inks onto an A4-sized foil substrate, which were then laminated to the garment. The printed silver-colored wires curve and zigzag between the cells, reminiscent of embroidery. These meandering patterns maximized the stretchability of the wire to more closely match the stretch of the fabric and make the circuit more robust. Twelve PV cells were attached to each sheet by hand. Ten of these sheets were repeated to create the overall design for the shirt. Because these sheets needed to lay flat during the lamination process, van Dongen devised a new type of pattern for the T-shirt composed of one large piece of fabric. The typical T-shirt is made of four pieces: front, back, and two sleeves. Hand-sewn conductive yarn was used to make the interconnections between sheets.52 After developing the prototype, van Dongen and her collaborators sought out industry partners to fund the continued development of this work, but they were unsuccessful. Few companies were interested in supporting their work. Particularly with the popularity of fast fashion, most companies can’t sell T-shirts that cost more than $30, so including solar cells would be out of the question. Van Dongen is interested in solar dress for its technological abilities, as well as its potential for how it might change the wearer’s perception of solar energy or sustainability. She found, both from wearing it herself and user research, that it did indeed impact both the wearer’s perception and behavior. In particular, wearing the solar shirt, made her more acutely aware of weather conditions and sun exposure.53 Van Dongen argues that designers must investigate the experiential qualities of materials, rather than only considering the technical functionality and designing based on how

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Figure 5.3  Pauline van Dongen, Solar Shirt (2015). Photo courtesy Liselotte Fleur.

104  Part III to best optimize it on the body. With traditional PV design, the engineer is always optimizing for greatest energy production. Once you remove it from that purely utilitarian space, and bring it into a cultural sphere, it’s not just about optimizing for energy production, but for actual user experience, cultural impact, or other factors. For van Dongen, these concerns are even greater with fashion than other design fields, because you don’t use clothing in the same way you use other technology. Clothing subtlety supports the wearer’s sense of self, allowing them to express complex ideas and emotions, beyond just being functional. This necessitates a user-centered design approach. As of this writing, the most significant real world use of van Dongen’s PV garments has been her jackets. Both of van Dongen’s PV jackets, the Solar Parka (2015) and Solar Windbreaker (2016) (Figure 5.4), were commissioned by the Wadden Sea Society, an organization dedicated to preserving the Wadden Sea ecosystem in the northern Netherlands. The jackets are worn by the organization’s staff members who may need to charge their devices when they are out in the remote mudflats and islands that make up the ecosystem. Both jackets were designed to be able to charge the battery with 2 hours of direct sunlight. The Solar Parka features a removable thin-film PV module, framed with a leather edge. The module is stored in a side pocket and it can be buttoned on to the front pocket as needed. The two buttons that attach the module to the coat are conductive and enable it to connect to the rest of the electrical components without additional wiring. Because it is removable it was more easily manufactured and more easily repaired. The windbreaker is a graphite colored jacket featuring three strips of thin film PV cells, attached via lamination. The cells run at a slight angle across the front of the coat. A diagonal zipper maximizes the amount of available surface area on the front of the jacket. The battery is attached to the interior lining of the coat. 54

Figure 5.4  Pauline van Dongen, Solar Windbreaker (2016). Photo courtesy Roos van de Kieft.

Textiles and Wearables 105

Rigid Devices Rigid PV wearables share many of the design challenges and communication capabilities of flexible wearables. PV cells integrated into rigid devices don’t have to contend with contrasting mechanical properties between the PV cell and substrate. For that reason, attaching PV cells to these devices is potentially simpler. Because they are worn or carried on the body, rigid PV devices still have to deal with the challenges relating to sun exposure and wearer comfort. One of the few examples of a TIPV garment made exclusively from rigid materials is the Day for Night Dress (2006) by Despina Papadopoulos (Figure 5.5). The garment confronts the challenge of interfacing between soft and hard materials by attempting to use a hard material in a flexible and dynamic way. It is a 1960s Paco Rabanne style dress made entirely out of 448 square white circuit boards. The circuit boards were designed to be modular. Boards could be added or removed to change the length and they could be connected to either an RGB LED or solar cell. The fasteners between boards that hold the dress together serve as the electrical connections for power, ground, and data to control the LEDs. A battery and control module were mounted on the back of the dress. For Papadopoulos, the use of solar cells changes the wearer’s relationship to the garment. The idea that you have to tend to the dress creates a dynamic relationship of care and a more engaged relationship with the clothing. The dress cannot charge and power the LEDs at the same time. It would need to be hung in a window or outside for about two hours to charge up the 750 mAh battery.55 Rigid devices are more common as accessories than as primary articles of clothing. Devices like earrings and necklaces often use solar energy to power LEDs. An example of this is Lumen Electronic Jewelry, a company founded in 2012, which incorporates the aesthetic of the circuit board into their designs. 56 Solar glasses were explored in a 2017 case study by a team of researchers in Germany. They used semi-transparent organic solar cell lenses to power temperature and illumination sensors and two lowpower displays on the glass’ arms.57 Elana Corchero’s Solar Vintage (2007) collection was a series of accessories with integrated PV that included a handheld fan, belt, handbag, broach, and parasol.58 The objects combined detailed lace patterns, embroidery, and laser cut wood with exposed circuitry for a Victorian-inspired aesthetic. The PV integrated into these devices was used to power embedded LEDs. There are also wearable devices that are not directly solar powered, but are designed with solar powered chargers. The Solar Ear is a particularly compelling example of this type of product. The mission of this company is to provide cheap hearing aids to young children in developing countries. The solar power chargers enable the devices to last 2–3 years without having to worry about replacing batteries, which would otherwise need to be replaced about once a week.59

Photovoltaic Textiles PVT can take the form of either textiles with PV properties or other PV materials engineered, often through textile manufacturing processes, to have textile-like properties. Rather than mounting a PV cell onto a piece of textile, with PVT the PV cell and the textile are one and the same. PVT is produced by either building the PV cell on the finished piece of fabric or by creating individual PV fibers, yarns, tapes, or other structures, which are then manufactured into a finished piece of fabric.60

106  Part III

Figure 5.5  Despina Papadopoulos, Day for Night Dress (2006). Courtesy the artist.

Textiles and Wearables 107 The potential benefits of PVT over TIPV materials are that they can retain textile characteristics and lead to lighter weight and cheaper PV modules. Different PVT methods retain different textile characteristics and no one approach captures all of the potential benefits. Contemporary research into PVT began in the late 1990s, but it is still challenging to produce, and there are many hurdles to fully realize these goals. The types of PV used in PVT have yet to match the electrical efficiency or durability of more commonly used PV materials. While PVT has captured many people’s imagination, the examples of artists and designers that have been able to work with these materials are few and it is even rarer for a PVT product to be commercially available. Scientists and designers interested in the possibilities for wearable energy harvesting aspire to retain the mechanical and perceptual attributes of fabric. These include flexibility, stretch, feel, durability, weight, permeability, and the ability to make different shapes. In addition to these physical benefits of PVT over TIPV, all of the important cultural implications of technological dress mentioned earlier apply here as well. PVT could be used in conjunction with other wearable electronic components, and engage more fully with pre-existing and culturally relevant patterns and techniques. The funding for developing these technologies is primarily driven by the possibility of lowering the price and weight of PV systems. A lightweight textile module has the potential to improve installation efficiencies and allow for mounting on different structures without as much concern for their ability to support the weight of an array. For all of the possible applications of PVT, the potential to leverage both the incredibly wide range of textile materials and existing textile manufacturing techniques to suit a range of applications is particularly appealing. While the possibilities for a PV textile are seemingly limitless, the challenges in realizing this vision are significant. Writing in 2015, two Danish scientists, Frederik C. Krebs and Markus Hösel, outlined this space well. They write, Wild dreams, ambition, and vision are, of course, important driving forces whereas the most important prerequisite for success is reduction to useful practice. Especially in this area, we currently observe a significant gap, and a reality check is quite possibly warranted for the often preposterous claims that are made. Scientists have a fantastic capacity to remove detail that disturb the purpose of a demonstration, and this is a useful trait; but when it comes to practical application it is most often a deficiency that effectively prevents progress to usefulness without extraordinary perseverance.61 Some common PVT challenges include durability, PV efficiency, establishing electrical connections between cells, controlling electrical parameters, and efficiently manufacturing these devices. An early, but not fully successful, attempt to create functional and wearable PVT garments was in Denmark in 2004.62 Tine Hertz and Maria Langberg, who were design students at the time, were interested in developing sustainable garments for their undergraduate senior project. They approached Risø DTU National Laboratory, a Danish research lab with a focus on sustainable energy, about the possibilities of creating PV textiles. The team at Risø had already been experimenting with organic polymer solar cells on polyethylene terephthalate substrates. This plastic material was

108  Part III flexible, but was still much stiffer than a textile. In collaboration with the scientists, Hertz and Langberg created designs that were turned into PV cells on these plastic substrates with the intention of sewing them into garments. These cells worked in lab settings, but proved too difficult to integrate into clothing designs while maintaining their functionality, because of the short life span of the cell and difficulties incorporating electronics hardware into the dress. After Hertz and Langberg graduated, the collaboration with Risø continued with the goal of creating an actual PV textile. The designers were specifically interested in finding an existing readily available textile that would lend itself to this purpose. Their research led them to settle on organdy, a widely available thin cotton material; in part because they felt using a delicate fabric would convey a stronger message about the design possibilities of wearable PV technology.63 They created a pattern which was designed to enable repetition and electrical connections between cells. This was likely the first instance of a solar cell being printed directly onto a textile.64 The results, published in 2006, were by some metrics successful, but did not overcome the challenges of working with an irregular surface like a textile. The PV cell worked when tested in the highly controlled lab environment, but with the permeable textile substrate the organic cell degraded quickly when taken outside. The designers also found it challenging to create a compelling visual design that still utilized enough of the available surface area to produce adequate power. Eventually, the collaboration ended when Risø was interested in applying for a patent for this process and the designers and scientists couldn’t come to an agreement on how to divide the rights to the research.65 More recently, Marianne Fairbanks and Trisha Andrew’s collaboration sheds further light on the role of artists and scientists working together in this space. The limitations with TIPV drove Fairbanks to want to work with a dynamic solar powered textile that would be more expressive. When Fairbanks began working at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, in 2014, she was initially drawn to collaborate with Andrew because of the apparent similarities of their processes and the language used to describe it, even though the actual process turned out to be quite different. When Andrew started her own lab at the University of Wisconsin, around 2013, partly as a fun project, she made a solar cell on paper. After seeing this, a colleague suggested she make solar cell curtains, which she, in her words, hubristically thought would be easy, because paper and textiles share many of the same properties.66 There are a wide range of methods that have been explored for imbuing textile materials with PV capabilities. Andrew developed a reactive vapor deposition approach capable of working with both individual fibers and pre-woven or knit fabrics. Reactive vapor deposition is a general term for a process whereby an organic chemical reaction creates a polymer film. Unlike many other textile coating processes, reactive vapor deposition creates a completely conformal thin layer that maintains the mechanical properties and texture of the underlying material. With this process, as long as the appropriate fiber or fabric is chosen, the user experience can be maintained.67 The collaboration between Fairbanks and Andrew allowed the work to advance in ways that would have been difficult beforehand. While Fairbanks lacked the scientific knowledge to produce new PV materials, Andrew had a limited knowledge of textiles and their respective properties and uses. Andrew designed and ran the experiments while Fairbanks assessed which textiles would be best for the process and provided one inch samples for the tests. Eventually, they moved from coating premade samples

Textiles and Wearables 109 to coating individual threads, which Fairbanks would then take back to her studio and weave together on a small loom. Their ultimate goal was to get to the point where they could be weaving larger pieces of cloth, but their collaboration ended before they could achieve that milestone. As Fairbanks noted, research funding in the US is very difficult to come by for designers, so doing work of this kind is often dependent on her collaborators in more traditional science disciplines with more funding and, sometimes, different research priorities.68 Andrew was initially drawn to this field of research because the possibilities for PVT are incredibly extensive. However, in the near term she envisions her research being used as a cheaper substrate for PV modules. Despite the growth in the wearable electronics industry, textile technology companies are still very disconnected from solar power textile research. For Fairbanks, it is important that designers play a role in the research process at an early stage in order to produce materials that end up being more culturally relevant and user friendly. She says: to be on the other end, which is the research and development side, I have much different goals about what [the] eventual solar textile could be. A lot of it has to do with wanting to think through the function and aesthetic forms early on so that people either know what they’re looking at, maybe there’s something that could cue them into that, or that the aesthetic is considered right alongside with the functionality. So we don’t just get a lot of stupid white lines on a black background… Textile patterns inherently have built in a repeat. So why couldn’t something be more decorative or aesthetic and also function holistically as a solar collector.69 The other large area of research in PVT focuses on PV materials that can be engineered to have textile properties. Crucially, these properties are not limited to the physical characteristics, but also their ability to fit into existing manufacturing methods and historically used textile techniques. The most common approaches in this area tend to use long flexible or semi-flexible rolls of PV material on a plastic substrate. These materials are woven together, sometimes in combination with traditional fibers, to create something with cloth-like characteristics. Pauline van Dongen was drawn to PVT because of her interests in exploring the softness and textures of technology, with the hope of creating a solar device that could truly drape and engage with the cultural traditions of weaving.70 Her Radius Solar Backpack (2018) and research with weaving strips of thin-film PV are two examples that apply textile manufacturing methods to PV materials. The strap of van Dongen’s bag uses spherical solar cell beads. To create the textile material, the beads are adhered to two conductive yarns, which are then used for weaving. The strap has a small surface area and can only produce a limited amount of power. Van Dongen estimates a full smartphone charge would require the wearer to be walking around in direct sun for 7 hours. In van Dongen’s most recent ongoing PV weaving experiments, thin-film cells are woven into a fabric in combination with conductive yarns that create the interconnections between them. Weaving, with its many well established manufacturing methods, presents a number of potential benefits for van Dongen’s practice over the previous labor intensive TIPV methods she employed.

110  Part III Weaving has a deep history and is full of cultural significance. While the historical importance of weaving is generally acknowledged, it is often mistakenly thought of by many people as a vintage feminine craft that is removed from ‘technology,’ without fully realizing how important and pervasive it is. This is a perception that van Dongen tries to debunk. Textiles are a language unto themselves that have historically been embedded with all manner of significance. There is vast knowledge in these historical methods, from all over the world, which has been erased over time. Van Dongen is particularly interested in how these historically important techniques impact the practitioner’s behavior, and she tries to bring those insights back into her design process. Because weaving and knitting technology is so pervasive and culturally important, it is a very accessible and powerful tool for changing the narratives around sustainable energy. These techniques allow van Dongen’s work to reach a broad range of stakeholders. Through public workshops she is able to get people to collaborate in her creative process. In addition to teaching skills related to textiles and solar power, the workshops are intended to encourage people to become more aware about the systems and phenomena that they rely on in their everyday lives, particularly as it pertains to the sun and clothing. She hopes that will enable them to create a different association and relationship to sustainable energy technologies, as well as enable a greater degree of agency, or at least participation, in relation to the climate crisis and the energy transition. Because of the inherent familiarity of textiles and garments, it provides an avenue for bringing underrepresented groups into this process in a more democratic and bottom up way.

Critical Textiles Artistic textile-based practices are able to use PV to engage in public dialog around social issues and technology, often with a focus on systemic issues and power dynamics. The work featured here ranges from performative and critical commentary to art as a vehicle for social work and economic empowerment. In many respects, the difference between an art project and a design work is intention and context. Andrew Schneider’s Solar Bikini and Amor Muñoz’s social projects both have similarities with some of the design and commercial work discussed above. Andrew Schneider’s Solar Bikini (2006) project takes a critical and satirical look at tech fetishization and greenwashing (Figure 5.6). The absurdism in this work is subtle. To the artist’s surprise, the work was taken seriously and garnered widespread attention.71 He conceived of the project as a critical and functional work of art, but a joke nonetheless. Schneider’s Solar Bikini ended up taking on a life of its own, and the media coverage it received demonstrates the propensity for greenwashing and misrepresentation of product integrated sustainable technologies. The Solar Bikini is made from flexible thin film solar cells, sewn together with conductive thread. The PV strings are directly wired into a voltage regulator and USB port. The project was initially conceived as a companion piece to solar powered board shorts with a built-in cooler for a single beer. This series of work was intended to push the idea of greenwashing to the extreme in order to highlight its absurdities and point out the ridiculousness of modern technology. The shorts were never successfully prototyped, but he was able to create a functioning version of the bikini. The bikini was very fragile, particularly the electrical connections, but it was wearable,

Textiles and Wearables 111

Figure 5.6  Andrew Schneider, Solar Bikini (2006). Courtesy the artist.

even though the wearer couldn’t expect to swim in it without it breaking. It was able to successfully charge an iPod Shuffle. Schneider was particularly interested in the psychological aspects of greenwashing, like feeling that you are doing good by buying a supposedly environmentally friendly

112  Part III product, when in reality you are not and may even be causing environmental harm. The bikini was chosen because one of its defining features is that it is small and has very little surface area, which is antithetical to solar in many ways, making it even more absurd. Further, the objectification of the body that is a central aspect of all swimwear advertising added an additional element of satire by making the tech fetishization he was critiquing literal. While Schneider’s work was never intended as a product to be sold, and he never even put much effort into promoting it, it was featured widely in the media as a real product. While some people got the joke, it was widely taken out of context and presented as a product intended for at least limited sale. Some articles even went so far as to list a price for the device.72 He says, People think this is a product and if you think its a product, then its stupid… It wasn’t absurd enough to be obviously a joke and that was never the point… They were presented as real things and to me, from my world, I was like, they were absurd and they were meant to be absurd, and they were meant to point, but they’re not like so absurd that they hit you over the head with their irony. It was just like, here’s a product that could exist. I think it’s hilarious and absurd.73 After a few particularly negative experiences of dealing with press and media personalities that thought the Solar Bikini was just a bad product and not a comedic work of art, he stopped creating these types of projects altogether. Today, fourteen years later, the Solar Bikini still receives occasional mentions in the press. The year after Schneider produced his artwork, other similarly absurd products began to be advertised. These were presented as sincere, even though they were purely intended to garner publicity and greenwash. The underwear company Triumph International presented a TIPV bathing suit (2007) followed by TIPV lingerie (2008) that was supposedly used to power a small video display.74 In 2019, the travel company On the Beach staged an April Fools joke announcing a solar powered bathing suit, which they named the Techini. The gag featured a British reality TV personality posting photos of herself on social media wearing the outfit that was advertised as having waterproof pockets and built-in solar powered Bluetooth speakers, among other attributes. Suffice to say, this product wasn’t real.75 This latter example is a particularly clear demonstration of a company leveraging sustainable technology purely for publicity. Amor Muñoz is an artist whose practice combines textiles, drawing, performance, and electronics to address a wide range of socio-economic issues. Muñoz, a former lawyer, examines issues of labor, economics, accessibility, and knowledge systems through craft. In addition to these issues, as with van Dongen and others, she is also deeply interested in counteracting the notion that textiles are simply feminine vintage handcrafts far removed from contemporary technologies. She does this through a variety of methods, including integrating newer and less familiar materials, like PV cells, with culturally relevant craft. Many of her projects strive to elevate local, DIY, and folk knowledge systems. Her works often involve reframing or repositioning technologies to change the viewer or participant’s perception of them. Her works involving solar power are framed as social projects that take the form of technology laboratories. These projects address issues relating to labor, manufacturing, knowledge systems, access to technology, and value, among a myriad of other considerations. Typically, the project collaborators are particular groups who can

Textiles and Wearables 113 benefit from this experience, often women or Indigenous people who have been displaced or are dealing with economic challenges. More than simply pairing the textile skills of the participants with electronics, these projects are meant to teach these skills. These solar power projects built off of earlier themes and approaches found in her work, like her first social project, Maquila Región 4 (2010–13). Maquila Región 4 was a mobile electronic textile artwork factory that critiqued the exploitative system and labor conditions of maquilas. Maquilas are a type of factory found in Mexico, owned by US companies that exploit the low wages and lack of regulation. They often have a unique status which allows them to export finished products with little to no taxes or custom fees. Muñoz’s mobile factory travelled to poor areas of Mexico City paying the US minimum wage for people to produce electronic textile art works. At the time, the maquila factories paid about 60 cents per hour while in the US, where most of these companies are based, the minimum wage was about $7 per hour. The work sought to bring attention to this issue by making the labor visible in a respectful and mutually beneficial way.76 Using conductive thread, the workers embroidered alarm circuits with unique BiDi codes that linked to a webpage with information about who assembled it and the work conditions. While embroidery is often viewed as a type of handicraft, in recent decades it has become an important technique in electronic textiles.77 This juxtaposition of high-tech and traditional handcraft is a central theme in Muñoz’s work. When she learned about PV thread, she found the concept to be magical and deeply poetic.78 In addition to the spectacle of transforming sunlight into electricity, there are many appealing metaphorical connections between the sun and textiles, like references to the sun as a coil and sunlight as a golden thread. Because PV threads aren’t commercially available, she was pushed to imagine how to create energy with textiles in an accessible way. The first of her solar textile endeavors was Yuca_tech: Energy By Hand (2014– 15) (Figure 5.7). This was a six month long laboratory for developing TIPV in

Figure 5.7  Amor Muñoz, Yuca_tech: Energy By Hand (2014–15). Courtesy the artist.

114  Part III collaboration with a group of local female artisans. The women were skilled at working with the traditional textile materials and techniques of that region, like weaving with sisal, an agave fiber. The laboratory focused on knowledge sharing, valuing both the older knowledge systems alongside electronics and PV knowledge. The goal was to develop technologies that were useful in day to day life and fit within that cultural context. In the lab, they combined these traditional materials and techniques with conductive threads to create works related to the sun and solar energy. They created solar textiles for homes and turned everyday objects like hats and sandals into solar powered lamps with rechargeable batteries. They also created a small number of bags that stored power in batteries that were used by street vendors to sell energy for charging cell phones, for five Pesos a minute. The results of the labs differ based on the local context, the skills of participants, and their needs. While Yuca_tech: Energy By Hand was largely focused on creating devices for the participants to use on a day-to-day basis and, for the most part, not for profit, other iterations were more geared toward generating economic value for the participants. For example, in Oto_Lab: Applied Crafts (2017) (Figure 5.8), which took place in Mexico City, Muñoz worked with a group of Indigenous women who had been displaced from their homes by drug violence and had been forced to move to the city. These women were making their living by creating and selling dolls. In the lab, they learned to add solar cells and LEDs to their products. The addition of electronics enabled them to sell the dolls for $80 US dollars, a massive increase over the $9 they were previously able to sell them for. The goal of these collaborations is in part to show that technology isn’t inherently bad or in opposition to traditional craft, but can be a good thing to create more value and preserve traditions through the use

Figure 5.8  Amor Muñoz, Oto_Lab: Applied Crafts (2017). Courtesy the artist.

Textiles and Wearables 115 of technology. After the lab was completed, the women involved in it applied for and received funding from the government to continue the project and now it has a life of its own, beyond Muñoz. She sees the project as a pattern that can be replicated and tweaked, and ideally these communities can take the idea and use it for their own specific needs. While much artistic practice relating to textiles, and wearables in particular, is concerned with issues of the body in relation to social norms, Muñoz’ work deals with the body in relation to labor, skill, and culture. Muñoz’s work also stakes out an important space for accessible folk tradition in contrast to utilitarian designs, sporty and high-tech aesthetics, and high-fashion couture designs.

Notes 1 Markus B. Schubert and Jürgen H. Werner, “Flexible Solar Cells for Clothing,” Materials Today 9, no. 6 (June 2006): 42–50, doi:10.1016/S1369-7021(06)71542-5. 2 Frederik C. Krebs and Markus Hösel, “The Solar Textile Challenge: How It Will Not Work and Where It Might,” ChemSusChem 8, no. 6 (March 2015): 966–69, doi:10.1002/ cssc.201403377. 3 Susan Elizabeth Ryan, “Re-Visioning the Interface: Technological Fashion as Critical Media.” Leonardo 42, no. 4 (2009): 307–13, doi:10.2307/40539965. 4 Alice Payne, “Fashion Futuring in the Anthropocene: Sustainable Fashion as ‘Taming’ and ‘Rewilding.’” Fashion Theory - Journal of Dress Body and Culture 23, no. 1 (January 2019): 5–23, doi:10.1080/1362704X.2017.1374097. 5 Sarah Scaturro, “Eco-Tech Fashion: Rationalizing Technology in Sustainable Fashion.” Fashion Theory - Journal of Dress Body and Culture 12, no. 4 (December 2008): 469– 88, doi:10.2752/175174108X346940. 6 Susan Elizabeth Ryan, Garments of Paradise : Wearable Discourse in the Digital Age (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2014), 39. 7 Mark Weiser, “The Computer for the 21st Century.” Scientific American 265, no. 3 (September 1991): 94–104, doi:10.1038/scientificamerican0991-94. 8 Kilho Yu et al., “Organic Photovoltaics: Toward Self-Powered Wearable Electronics.” Proceedings of the IEEE 107, no. 10 (October 2019): 2137–54, doi:10.1109/ JPROC.2019.2929797. 9 Anna Dąbrowska and Agnieszka Greszta, “Analysis of the Possibility of Using Energy Harvesters to Power Wearable Electronics in Clothing,” Advances in Materials Science and Engineering 2019, (March 2019), doi:10.1155/2019/9057293. 10 Ryan, Garments of Paradise : Wearable Discourse in the Digital Age, 6. 11 Christian Fernando Libaque-Sáenz et al., “The Effect of Fair Information Practices and Data Collection Methods on Privacy-Related Behaviors: A Study of Mobile Apps,” Information and Management, (February 2020): 103284, doi:10.1016/j.im.2020.103284. 12 Nick Turse, “Fitness Tracker Data Highlights Sprawling U.S. Military Footprint in Africa,” The Intercept, January 29, 2018, https://theintercept.com/2018/01/29/ strava-heat-map-fitness-tracker-us-military-base/. 13 Susan Elizabeth Ryan, “Re-Visioning the Interface: Technological Fashion as Critical Media.” Leonardo 42, no. 4 (2009): 307–13, doi:10.2307/40539965. 14 Despina Papadopoulos, “Wearable Technologies, Portable Architectures and the Vicissitudes of the Space Between,” Architectural Design 77, no. 4 (July 2007): 62–67, doi:10.1002/ad.488. 15 Stephen R. J. Sheppard, “Making Climate Change Visible: A Critical Role for Landscape Professionals.” Landscape and Urban Planning 142, (October 2015): 95–105, doi:10.1016/J.LANDURBPLAN.2015.07.006. 16 Alice Payne, “Fashion Futuring in the Anthropocene: Sustainable Fashion as ‘Taming’ and ‘Rewilding,’” Fashion Theory – Journal of Dress Body and Culture 23, no. 1 (January 2019): 5–23, doi:10.1080/1362704X.2017.1374097.

116  Part III 17 Sarah Scaturro, “Eco-Tech Fashion: Rationalizing Technology in Sustainable Fashion,” Fashion Theory - Journal of Dress Body and Culture 12, no. 4 (December 2008) 469– 88, doi:10.2752/175174108X346940. 18 Susan Elizabeth Ryan, “Hyperdressing: Wearable Technology in the Time of Global Warming,” Proceedings of the 21st International Symposium on Electronic Art, 2015. 19 Alice Payne, “Fashion Futuring in the Anthropocene: Sustainable Fashion as ‘Taming’ and ‘Rewilding,’” Fashion Theory – Journal of Dress Body and Culture 23, no. 1 (January 2019): 5–23, doi:10.1080/1362704X.2017.1374097. 20 Melissa Wagner et al., “A Design Analysis for Eco-Fashion Style Using Sensory Evaluation Tools: Consumer Perceptions of Product Appearance,” Journal of Retailing and Consumer Services 51, (November 2019): 253–62, doi:10.1016/j.jretconser.2019.06.005. 21 Natascha M. van der Velden, et al., “Life Cycle Assessment and Eco-Design of Smart Textiles: The Importance of Material Selection Demonstrated through e-Textile Product Redesign,” Materials and Design 84, (November 2015): 313–24, doi:10.1016/j. matdes.2015.06.129. 22 Anneke Smelik et al., “Solar Fashion: An Embodied Approach to Wearable Technology.” International Journal of Fashion Studies 3, no. 2 (October 2016): 287–303, doi:10.1386/infs.3.2.287_1. 23 Ryan, “Re-Visioning the Interface: Technological Fashion as Critical Media,” 307–13. 24 Edward A. Shanken, Art and Electronic Media (New York: Phaidon Press Inc, 2009),140. 25 Robert R. Mather and John I. B. Wilson, “Fabrication of Photovoltaic Textiles,” Coatings 7, no. 63 (2017), doi:10.3390/coatings7050063. 26 Mather and Wilson, “Fabrication of Photovoltaic Textiles.” 27 Pijush Kanti Dutta Pramanik et al., “Power Consumption Analysis, Measurement, Management, and Issues: A State-of-the-Art Review of Smartphone Battery and Energy Usage,” IEEE Access 7, (2019): 182113–72, doi:10.1109/ACCESS.2019.2958684. 28 Yuka Yoneda, “SUSTAINABLE STYLE: Noon Solar Bags!,” Inhabitat, November 25, 2007, https://inhabitat.com/sustainable-style-new-noon-solar-bags/. 29 “Voltaic Solar/ Electronic Backpack,” Tree Hugger, September 28, 2004, https://web. archive.org/web/20170420040511/https://www.treehugger.com/style/voltaic-solarelectronic-backpack.html. 30 Marianne Fairbanks & S. Jane Palmer, Solar Charging Handbag, US Patent 8,674.211 B1, 2014. 31 Marianne Fairbanks, interview with Alex Nathanson, November 13, 2018. 32 Marianne Fairbanks, interview with Alex Nathanson, November 13, 2018. 33 “About Us: Solar Power,” Noon Solar, accessed July 9, 2020, https://web.archive.org/ web/20100529025811if_/http://www.noonstyle.com/. 34 Marianne Fairbanks, interview with Alex Nathanson, November 13, 2018. 35 “ELLE’s Portable Light Project Bags Are Finally Up for Auction!,” Elle, July 5, 2010, https://www.elle.com/fashion/news/a4278/elles-portable-light-project-bags-are-f inally-up-for-auction-488/.. 36 “Eclipse – Solar Handbag 2013,” Diffus, accessed July 9, 2020, https://diffus.dk/work/ project-eclipse/. 37 One Young World, “Solar schoolbags powering education in South Africa,” YouTube video, 3:02, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mt0wwcMcJ7g. 38 Lauren Said-Moorhouse, “This backpack was trash. Now it’s a life-saving schoolbag for kids,” CNN, November 13, 2015, https://www.cnn.com/2014/12/04/world/africa/ repurpose-schoolbags-south-africa-rethaka/index.html. 39 “South Africa’s solar schoolbags,” Atlas of the Future, accessed January 12, 2021, https://atlasofthefuture.org/project/rethaka-repurpose-schoolbags%E2%80%8B/ 40 Hector Martinez, “SCOTTeVEST Solar Finetex Jacket Review,” Gear Live, December 17, 2004, http://www.gearlive.com/news/article/scottevest_solar_finetex_jacket_review/. 41 “Solar SCOTTeVEST: Important Instructions & Product Specifications,” SCOTTeVEST, accessed May 5, 2020, https://www.scottevest.com/pdf/solar_insert_full.pdf. 42 John Weir, “Scott-E-Vest Solar Powered Jacket,” Crunchwear, April 27, 2007, https:// crunchwear.com/scott-e-vest-solar-powered-jacket/.

Textiles and Wearables 117 43 Charlie White, “ZegnaSport Jacket Has Solar Ring Around the Collar” Gizmodo, June 22, 2007, https://gizmodo.com/zegnasport-jacket-has-solar-ring-around-the-collar-271299 accessed 6/29/2020. 44 Scott Jordan, interview with Alex Nathanson on April 6, 2021. 45 “First Ever Solar Jacket from SCOTTeVEST - Technology Enabled Clothing,” SCOTTeVEST, September 10, 2004, https://www.prweb.com/releases/2004/09/prweb156342. htm accessed 5/25/2020. 46 Scott Jordan, interview with Alex Nathanson on April 6, 2021. 47 M. B. Schubert et al., “Clothing Integrated Photovoltaics,” Conference Record of the IEEE Photovoltaic Specialists Conference (2005): 1488–91, doi:10.1109/pvsc.2005.1488424. 48 Markus B. Schubert and Jürgen H. Werner, “Flexible Solar Cells for Clothing,” Materials Today 9, no. 6 (June 2006): 42–50, doi:10.1016/S1369-7021(06)71542–5. 49 Colin Touhey, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 19, 2020. 50 Pauline van Dongen, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 12, 2020. 51 Pauline van Dongen, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 12, 2020. 52 Smelik et al., “Solar Fashion: An Embodied Approach to Wearable Technology, 287–303. 53 Smelik et al., “Solar Fashion: An Embodied Approach to Wearable Technology, 287–303. 54 “Solar Windbreaker,” Blue Loop Originals, accessed February 23, 2020, https://www. bluelooporiginals.com/projects.php?p=solar. 55 Despina Papadopoulos, interview with Alex Nathanson on December 5, 2020. 56 “Lumen Electronic Jewelry,” accessed July 14, 2020, http://www.lumenelectronicjewelry.com/. 57 Dominik Landerer et al., “Solar Glasses: A Case Study on Semitransparent Organic Solar Cells for Self-Powered, Smart, Wearable Devices,” Energy Technology 5, no. 11 (November 2017): 1936–45, doi:10.1002/ente.201700226. 58 “Solar Vintage,” Distance Lab, accessed December 16, 2020, http://www.agamanolis. com/distancelab/projects/solar-vintage/. 59 “Solar Ear,” accessed July 15, 2020, http://solarear.com.br/. 60 Mather and Wilson, “Fabrication of Photovoltaic Textiles.” 61 Frederik C. Krebs and Markus Hösel, “The Solar Textile Challenge: How It Will Not Work and Where It Might,” ChemSusChem 8, no. 6 (March 2015): 966–69, doi:10.1002/ cssc.201403377. 62 Frederik C. Krebs et al., “Strategies for Incorporation of Polymer Photovoltaics into Garments and Textiles,” Solar Energy Materials and Solar Cells 90, no. 7–8 (May 2006): 1058–67, doi:10.1016/j.solmat.2005.06.003. 63 Tine Hertz, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, 2020. 64 Frederik C. Krebs and Markus Hösel, “The Solar Textile Challenge: How It Will Not Work and Where It Might,” ChemSusChem 8, no. 6 (March 2015): 966–69, doi:10.1002/ cssc.201403377. 65 Tine Hertz, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, 2020. 66 Trisha Andrew, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 31, 2020. 67 Trisha Andrew, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 31, 2020. 68 Marianne Fairbanks, interview with Alex Nathanson, November 13, 2018. 69 Marianne Fairbanks, interview with Alex Nathanson, November 13, 2018. 70 Pauline van Dongen, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 12, 2020. 71 Andrew Schneider, interview with Alex Nathanson on July 2, 2020. 72 Paul Ridden, “Solar Bikini goes into very limited production,” New Atlas, June 15, 2011, https://newatlas.com/solar-bikini-goes-into-limited-production/18920/. 73 Andrew Schneider, interview with Alex Nathanson on July 2, 2020. 74 “Best in Show: Solar Clothing,” The Guardian, March 18, 2009, https://www.theguardian.com/environment/gallery/2009/mar/13/solar-power-fashion. 75 “The Techini,” On The Beach, accessed July 2, 2020, https://www.onthebeach.co.uk/ techini. 76 “Eyeo 2015 – Amor Muñoz,” Eyeo Festival, Vimeo video, 39:26, https://vimeo. com/134734732. 77 Mather and Wilson, “Fabrication of Photovoltaic Textiles.” 78 Amor Muñoz, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 9, 2020.

6

Sound Art

Since the emergence of PV sound art in the late 1960s, the field has continued to be one of the most fertile areas for artistic expression with solar power. Sound artists and composers have a very long history of experimenting with both creative uses and misuses of electronics through a broad range of methods and they were more than happy to add solar power to that toolkit. While some of the concepts present in sound art are also found in other subsets of aesthetic PV practice to varying degrees, no other field demonstrates such a breadth of conceptual frameworks and design methodologies. The low energy requirements of many sound projects make it particularly easy to experiment with solar power in this domain. Many of the characteristics of solar power lend themselves to pre-existing conceptual approaches popular with sound artists and composers. Variability, randomness, autonomy, and the connection to natural systems are particularly ready-made for audio experimentation. John Cage’s use of chance operations is perhaps one of the most influential concepts in this space and can be applied very directly to the batteryless sound making devices that many sound artists have gravitated to. Alvin Lucier’s interest in setting up a process and letting it play out without human interruption can be easily attached to this technology as well. While never working directly with PV herself, Pauline Oliveros’ concept of Deep Listening has also had a far reaching impact. Artistic movements and design methodologies like Fluxus, circuit bending, algorithmic composition, and biomimicry have been similarly influential. In addition to the easy application of pre-existing musical concepts, there was also a number of pre-existing technical resources for experimental music that were applicable as well.1 These resources have made it easier to begin working with PV in this field than it is in some other artistic disciplines, though the applicable content is still limited. Some of these resources contain basic information on using PV as a power supply and for charging batteries. However, this material rarely directly considers the opportunities for unique aesthetic outcomes when working with solar. The projects highlighted throughout this chapter are grouped into sections by common technical approaches that artists have gravitated to. The first section examines acoustic sounds produced through electromechanical means. Next, analog synthesizers with fluctuating power supplies are explored. Then, the use of PV in amplifying nature and making field recordings is discussed. Fourth, artists who are transducing the frequencies of light sources are examined. Finally, a couple of additional unique approaches to sound making with PV are discussed. In some instances, these technical

Sound Art 119 choices lend themselves to particular aesthetic outcomes, while in others the aesthetic diverges significantly.

Acoustic Sounds via Electromechanical Means Using PV technologies to run electromechanical devices that create acoustic sounds is one of the most common uses of this technology in musical composition, because of how simple and intuitive some of these devices can be. The most common output from these machines tends to be percussive actions. The simplicity and flexibility of hitting something with an object attached to a motor encourages experimentation in a way that a more complex device might not. The most basic approach, a direct drive circuit like what Joe Jones employed in his work, can be reconfigured to produce a wide range of aesthetic results, depending on its environment and the sound making materials used. The circuit can be constructed with only a solar cell wired directly to a motor, without any power regulating or storage components. These very simple direct drive circuits have a one-to-one correlation between the solar cell’s exposure to light and the intensity of the motor; the more light, the faster it will spin. More complicated circuits can be made with BEAM-style solar engines, integrated circuits and other components to increase the complexity of the system’s behavior. Dynamic sounds and rhythmic structures can be further created through the use of more complex mechanical elements as well. Variations on PV driven acoustic instruments have been explored extensively by a number of artists, including Bálint Bori, Björn Schülke, and Patrick Marold. In Hungarian artist Bálint Bori’s work mechanical structures are assembled from everyday found objects, like beer cans, cookie tins, springs, and bells, to create playful repetitive scores that seek to find aesthetic value in the everyday. Bori was a member of The INDIGO Group, an avant-garde art movement that was active in Hungary from 1978–86. 2 The methodology of The INDIGO Group was conceptually related to Fluxus and the international peace movement. It was built around creating environments through collaborative methods, which are now fairly common, like brainstorming and group therapy, but were at the time relatively rare and considered outlandish. The ultimate goal of these projects was to consider the responsibility of the individual in society. The group was not supported by the Hungarian government. When some members of the organization were invited to participate in the Paris Biennial in 1982 the Hungarian government refused to give them permission to leave the country and they weren’t able to attend. Bori began working with PV in the early aughts. He employs a similar technique to Joe Jones, using direct drive circuits to drive DC motors with unbalanced objects attached, creating dynamic sounds. In Bori’s work the motors are often placed inside of the bodies of the sculptures, though they can still sometimes be seen. The unbalanced load on the motors introduces variation and elements of chance into the otherwise repetitive sound of his instruments. As the momentum builds, the devices move in unpredictable ways, changing the rhythm being produced. The use of solar power and the upcycling of materials in this work is in many ways a logical extension of The INDIGO Group’s goal of considering the responsibility of an individual to society. Meaning in Bori’s work comes from both his interest in identifying latent aesthetic values in everyday objects and the relationship these objects have to larger social and political structures. As was the case with Jones, Bori’s work

120  Part III is meant to be interacted with. He is particularly interested in the ways in which people’s interactions within the space created by his installations contributes to the creation of the artwork’s meaning. His sound installations are an extension of the openness to the sensitivity of existence, as dictated by the INDIGO poetics. What we have here is a special form of art installation and sound-environment; that is, an aural definition of space. Bori created a dadaist ‘ready-made’ that can be taken for nothing but a challenge to find the ‘solution to an audio-visual puzzle.’ This offers a wide range of possible experiences. Creating an aesthetically interesting, restructured world of emotions and sensation out of so called useless objects is an idea with a long history in art.3 In contrast to Bori’s assemblages that look like they were, and in fact are, assembled from materials that could just as easily be trash, Björn Schülke’s work is refined and almost sterile. Schülke’s work includes kinetic sculpture and video, as well as sound. The sculptures combine free-form circuit building techniques with the aesthetics of space travel, minimalist design, and traditional acoustic instruments. The results are hyper clean looking delicate pieces that are usually painted a glossy white. Many of these works are kinetic, but their motions are mostly slow and extremely deliberate. Even when working at a large scale, his work retains its delicateness often through the appearance of being precariously balanced. Through these techniques, Schülke’s work explores abstract notions of weight, intention, and energetic transformations. Aerosolar #2 (2010) is a small sculpture that uses a circuit akin to a solar engine to create small movements that build up and get released in a single burst (Figure 6.1). A motor periodically turns, opening a bellows, via an asymmetrical cam. The amount of available sunlight that the cells are exposed to impacts the rate of the motor. The piece is meant to be displayed inside a gallery, with artificial light, so the motion is slow and periodic. Once the motor has completed a rotation, the cam quickly releases the bellows which drops back down to its original position, forcing air through a pipe producing a short burst of sound. While many solar power works are in conversation with wind power and many artists working with solar have also worked with wind, this piece is one of the few that uses solar power to produce air movements. Another approach to producing acoustic sounds with PV is found in Patrick Marold’s installation Solar Drones (2016) (Figure 6.2). Solar Drones translates the conditions of the sky into a tonal sound experience through solar panels that power electromagnetic actuators that then cause a tensioned piano wire to vibrate at a specific frequency.4 The site specific work is located at the National Music Centre in Calgary, Canada. The piece is suspended from the ceiling of an enclosed bridge between two buildings, which allows listeners to look out across the landscape and better understand the connection to the environment. The work is composed of 16 resonating bodies constructed from the sounding boards of pianos that were destroyed in Calgary’s 2013 flood. These vessels are each strung with one steel piano string. Each of the 16 units has dedicated circuitry and a PV module on the roof. The modules all face slightly different directions, so the parts of the installation that are sounding at any given time shift throughout the day. The work relies on a batteryless analog circuit that changes a variety of parameters based on the insolation. The dynamics of the work correlate to the amount of

Sound Art 121

Figure 6.1  Björn Schülke, Aerosolar #2 (2010). Courtesy the artist/bitforms gallery.

122  Part III

Figure 6.2  Patrick Marold, Solar Drones (2016). Courtesy the artist.

Sound Art 123 sunlight. Marold writes, “Variation in intensity and the sun’s location throughout the solar year, combined with any ambient changes in the installation space, generate a complex interaction between the individual drones which lead to unique, non-repeating harmonic expressions.”5 The initial tuning of the piece was created by composer Morton Waller. He chose to assign specific interval relationships to different times of the day.6 Marold’s intention for Solar Drones was to enable different composers to periodically reimagine the tuning and change the character of the work.

Electronic Sound Synthesis and Power Starving Electronic sound synthesis is an expansive term that encompasses all of the possible ways of generating sound with electronics through the use of either hardware or software. As the practice is based on experimenting with the auditory possibilities of electricity, it’s not surprising that a number of musicians building synthesizers have connected PV cells to their machines in various ways. As with many areas of PV aesthetics, a useful top level distinction that can be made is between work that uses regulated power supplies and batteries, and devices that don’t. This section is particularly focused on artists that are using synthesizers without batteries or power conditioners in order to explore power starving. Power starving refers to the interesting and random aesthetic outcomes that occur when the circuit is being underpowered by the solar cell. This happens naturally around dusk and in other low light conditions. Rather than simply turn off or decrease in intensity in low light conditions, many of these types of circuits behave erratically and the characteristics of the sound change in interesting ways. The effect is primarily found in synthesizers that use either analog electronics or have only simple digital circuitry. Artists like Peter Blasser and Scott Smallwood whose work explores this effect are interested in the expressive possibilities of variability and precariousness that result from frequent changes in light conditions directly impacting the sound output. Synthesizing sound is the process of electrically reproducing or imitating acoustic sounds or producing unique sounds. The oscillator is one of the primary building blocks of sound synthesis. Analog synthesizers are hardware based devices. Digital synthesizers can include both hardware and programmable software elements. The standard technical distinction between analog and digital components is that analog circuitry produces continuous values, while digital circuits are either high or low (i.e. a one or a zero). Given a range of values such as 0.0–1.0 V, an analog circuit can produce values anywhere within that span, but a digital circuit can only operate in discrete increments restricted to a maximum sample rate. An important distinction is that a digital synthesizer generally cannot function when underpowered, because it will not turn on. More than simply functioning as a power supply, the incorporation of PV is what allows these devices to produce interesting and dynamic sounds. In low light or fluctuating light conditions these synthesizers will behave in unpredictable, or at least varying, ways. This behavior is more complex than many of the electromechanical devices discussed in the previous section. The sound of the electromechanical devices in varying light conditions is more or less the same, only at different intensities i.e. faster or louder. While this can sometimes create different rhythms, when intensity impacts the motion of a percussive object, other characteristics remain mostly static. The effect of power starving on the output of electronic synthesizers can shift the

124  Part III characteristics of the sound. In addition to the intensity, other aesthetic characteristics of the synthesizer, such as pitch, timbre, and rhythm can change as well. Peter Blasser is a synthesizer builder and musician whose company Ciat-Lonbarde is well known for producing beautiful, idiosyncratic synthesizers. In 2014, CiatLonbarde began producing a line of solar powered synths called Tocante. These instruments, with embedded PV cells, stored power in a battery and could be played at any time. In 2016, he began developing solar sounders, PV synthesizers without batteries, in order to explore the artistic possibilities of the immediacy of solar energy (Figure 6.3). Largely because of Blasser, the term solar sounder has come to describe an entire class of PV synthesizers that are designed with power starving in mind. Blasser coined the term before he was aware of Lucier’s use of it, and it has caught on. Blasser’s 2016 article in eContact!, “Bird, Monk, Train: Three Approaches to a Solar Sounder Workshop,”7 describes both his technical and conceptual approach to making solar sounders in great detail. Sound artists, more so than artists working in other disciplines, have been better at self-publishing tutorials. This may be due to the volume of practitioners and projects, as well as the relatively cheap cost of hardware. With many sound making techniques, practitioners can begin to get interesting results with relatively simple circuits, making it easily adaptable to a workshop context. Blasser’s article is one of the most complete resources in this category. All of Blasser’s work, but especially his solar sounders, incorporate elements of biomimicry and circuit bending. His solar sounders are completely analog devices composed of transistors, capacitors, and resistors, and coupled with an amplifier chip and speaker to make the sounds audible. He describes his solar sounders as primitive circuits. Three characteristics make them primitive. First, they do not have a voltage

Figure 6.3  Peter Blasser, collection of Solar Sounders. Courtesy the artist.

Sound Art 125 regulator. Second, they use components that behave unpredictably in some contexts, such as transistors instead of a more stable component like an op amp. Third, the speaker’s amplifier shares the power supply with the synthesizer circuitry. Amplifiers consume much more power than synthesizers, so when they are coupled together the amp can hog the power and feedback into the synth, which he writes can cause “parasitic oscillations” (i.e. unanticipated sounds). Blasser considers this primitive approach that intentionally misuses components an extension of circuit bending. Circuit bending has been occurring since at least the mid-1960s and refers to creatively hacking hardware and rewiring sound making toys and other cheap consumer devices. The approach embraces unpredictability and the intentional misuse of a technology, which lends itself to solar power. As an artist, educator, and a commercial synthesizer designer, Blasser has a unique perspective on both how to design an instrument that truly embodies the materials being used as well as the public’s awareness of solar power in art. The conceptual underpinnings of the field are largely unknown to artists, and the public doesn’t have any awareness of this type of work at all. Many electronic artists, he says, have a lot of misconceptions about solar power. For example, “Most artists like to think of their art as permanent, solid, and thus would prefer to think of it as powered by the wall. That’s a misconception right there, is wall power more permanent than solar power?”8 Blasser echoed a goal many PV creative professionals have cited. His primary design consideration for his machines is that, “It should work.” In his case, that means designing with intention and not necessarily knowing the outcome. He goes on to say, “That means if there are separate mechanisms they work independently as power is starved, unless it is intended for strange behavior to arise during this starvation.”9 Blasser is interested in unregulated power supplies, because of the dramatic swings that result from changes in the sun’s position and weather. He’s not interested in using solar panels as gesture controllers, because he finds other gestural controllers he has made with other techniques to be more “intimate and musical.” The low light range of instruments intended for power starving is frequently where the most interesting sounds happen. Blasser’s favorite moments are when clouds with granular gaps allow direct light to come through, or a swaying tree throws varying shadows. In the ideal context, his machines are grouped together to create a dynamic chorus of sounds, with each instrument receiving a varying amount of sunlight. The challenge when designing solar sounders is to create a device that sounds interesting in a range of light conditions. Most traditional applications of PV, and a great deal of artistic ones, thrive in peak light conditions, like noon on a clear day, but not necessarily a basic solar sounder. The other challenges that solar sounder designers face are in many ways the same as they would be if they were working from a traditional power supply, like creating dynamic sounds and making something compositionally interesting. The solar sounders are some of the lowest hanging fruit available out there: just pick a simple electronic circuit and make it sing nicely at all light levels, think about voicing it. It’s more of a resource and you can focus on your compositional problems, like voicing highs and lows, timbre, and pitch movement. The power transfer is direct. With Tocante, I designed a solar battery charger that works in all light by using an inductor to boost any energy and dump it into the

126  Part III battery. With that I feel like it was more of a challenge because I wanted to get the most efficient energy transfer and have it work in all circumstances. I remember doing a Tocante workshop in San Diego, and we tried to charge them in some really harsh California light, and they conked out at the brightest. We eventually switched out the inductor values and that fixed it, but it shows how doing a specific task with a variable energy such as solar is more challenging than just saying, “what can I make with a variable power source?”10 Blasser wants to see composers question the possibilities of PV power sources more deeply. He says, I have a concept, called the “interrogajoke.” it is both an interrogation and a joke on some conception. Here, the interrogation should be about why hasn’t anyone treated solar power as fundamentally different from wall power?… I want to see more people playing with the power supply, making jokes or whimsies with it, rather than composers or artists trying to own it with a definitive “piece.”11 Blasser’s interest in open-ended circuits that can be reinterpreted by different practitioners was echoed by the composer Daniel Fishkin. Fishkin is one of the artists that has expanded on Blasser’s initial solar sounder circuits. He has described them as a type of folk art.12 The basic elements of the solar sounders are the same, but the environmental conditions where it is constructed will give the circuit and resulting sound a particular local flavor. Scott Smallwood is a composer based in Alberta, Canada who also works with PV synths, but with a slightly different approach. His prolific PV work takes the form of small handheld instruments (Figure 6.4) as well as some larger installations. Smallwood wrote a short background section for his 2011 paper “Solar Sound Arts: Creating Instruments and Devices Powered by Photovoltaic Technologies,”13 which

Figure 6.4  Scott Smallwood, Green Fly (2008). Courtesy the artist.

Sound Art 127 is one of the only published histories on solar power in sound art. The background briefly mentions works by Lucier, Craig Colorusso, Jeff Feddersen, and Nigel Helyer. Smallwood began working with low voltage electronics in 2008 when he was a grad student at Princeton University. Nic Collins was visiting the school and taught a workshop on electronic sound making. Shortly thereafter Perry Cook started talking to him about working with solar power and he began experimenting with little PV instruments. While he was aware of some other musicians working with PV, like the German artist Ralf Schreiber, he met almost no one else working with PV aesthetics until 2018. That year he was invited to a small conference in Hungary on solar sound synthesis, where he met Schreiber, as well as other practitioners. Like Blasser, Schreiber has also dedicated a significant amount of time to creating workshop content, some of which is available online. He has published two circuits, “Solar Sound Module”14 and “Sun Eater.”15 The latter is based on a BEAM design. Even though they share many characteristics, Smallwood doesn’t use the term solar sounder to describe his instruments. He developed the term solarsonics, which describes his approach to working with solar power, but not necessarily the specific instruments. The term means, “as much [powered] directly off the solar panel as possible and a direct connection between the energy in the moment and the energy in the device.”16 The emergence of conceptual frameworks like solarsonics or terms like solar sounders is commonly driven by what a particular artist considers to be the most interesting or defining characteristic of PV aesthetics. In some instances, this may be a poetic concept, while in others it may be more of a reflection of the practical applications of the technology. Smallwood has a number of design considerations he uses when creating his instruments. In general, he doesn’t want the use of solar panels to be a gimmick. His focus is on figuring out what aesthetic choices are possible without batteries. All of his devices are self-contained and simple. For the most part, he avoids including switches on his devices, so they need to be shielded from light in a box or drawer when he wants them to stop making noise. He draws inspiration from found objects and upcycled material. Additionally, he wants his instruments to last 60 years without needing a new battery or to be plugged in. When interviewed, Smallwood spoke about not being totally satisfied with all of his PV work. He was very satisfied with his installations, just not with many of his instruments and he couldn’t point to a particular piece of music he’s made with these machines that he likes. This was largely because the ergonomics weren’t great and it was hard to be subtle with these instruments. He added that others have played his solar instruments much better than he does. This is similar to Blasser’s feeling that he didn’t like using PV as a gestural controller. Later solar powered instruments by Smallwood used a super capacitor on the amplifier side of the circuit, which allowed him to make instruments that he felt were more expressive and enjoyable to play. The synthesizer side is still not buffered so it is responsive to the direct fluctuations of light. When he began building solar powered instruments, Smallwood was initially just using square wave logic circuits, because they kept operating as power was starved. For many years he avoided using microprocessors, because they have only two states, on or off. As with Blasser, he found the threshold between having the power to do anything and just being off, i.e. changing low light conditions, an interesting area to investigate. In recent years, he has been incorporating microcontrollers into his work, because it opens up the possibility for storing data and altering the instrument’s output based on how long it has been operating.

128  Part III When asked about the challenges he faces when working with PV, he noted that in Canada, where he presently lives, it’s harder to get access to good products than it would be in the United States, because they’re more expensive. To an extent, the cost is offset by the easier access to arts funding and grants in Canada. Through presenting his work, he is very cognizant of just how little knowledge the public has about PV and about energy usage in general. Smallwood feels that PV artwork has the potential to make energy consumption and the inner workings of sustainable energy systems more visible and understandable by the public.

Field Recordings and Amplification Solar power’s particular ability to serve as a reliable power supply in isolated areas and for mobile applications has made it an integral part of recording and amplification projects in these contexts. The need for this in both traditional acoustic fields as well as experimental ones is significant. The artists in this section work with field recording techniques, live-amplification, and frequently a combination of the two to bring awareness to issues of place, identity, and the environment. Artists including Benoît Maubrey, whose work was discussed previously, have used these techniques for some time. In the 21st century artists including Mike Blow, Allan Giddy, Dmitry Morozov, Zach Poff, and others have explored this space in great detail. As with other applications of PV in the sound field, pre-existing concepts were influential to artists here as well. The pioneering sound artist and researcher Maryanne Amacher’s work with site specificity, sound spatialization, perception, structure borne sound, and numerous other topics laid the groundwork for many pieces in this space. Deep Listening, a concept created by the composer Pauline Oliveros, has been similarly influential. She coined the term in 1989, originally as a title for an album of music she recorded the previous year, inside of a cistern 14 feet underground. The pun refers to both being literally deep, but also her methodology of creating sound and improvising, which is based on listening closely and responding. The compositional techniques of Musique Concrète are also employed by some of the artists discussed in this section. Musique Concrète, a name that originated with Pierre Schaeffer, is a musical movement that emerged in the 1940s as recording technology was becoming more accessible. Musique Concrète composers created musical pieces through the manipulation of recordings of often mundane objects. Far more so than the other sound making techniques discussed in this chapter, the non-artistic applications for field recordings and amplification are extensive. For researchers in non-artistic fields, the applications for recordings include anthropologists documenting unique cultures, linguists recording regional accents and languages, scientists collecting environmental data from all corners of the earth, and sonifications of data collected from satellites in space. It’s worth remembering that some of the earliest uses of PV were for remote communication systems. In a remote location, solar power may be the easiest and cheapest option for powering equipment. The typical use of off-grid solar power, as a regulated power supply with battery storage, has increasingly been employed to facilitate traditional concert-style performances. This has been the case in both impoverished areas, because traditional grid power may not be available, as well as in more affluent areas for concert events that want to minimize their environmental footprint. The artists working with amplification discussed here are doing more than just making their performances audible.

Sound Art 129 They are using amplification to respond to their environment and direct the audience’s attention to aspects in the environment that would otherwise go unheard. The sounds are also commonly mixed with prerecorded elements or effects to create unique electronic instruments or sonic spaces. Typically, these artists are using regulated power supplies. Because of this, even though the PV enables the performance, it does not necessarily impact its intensity or other elements of the sound. Perhaps one of the clearest examples of using solar power for both amplification and recording in a remote area is Dmitry Morozov’s 2012 project Mitrasonic. Morozov, who goes by the moniker ::vtol::, is a Russian born artist and researcher. For Mitrasonic, he created a 22 watt PV system to power a unique low-voltage modular synthesizer, along with additional hardware for mixing and recording the performance. The instrument was designed to be as energy efficient as possible. Each module used in the instrument was powered independently, allowing Morozov to turn off particular elements if there wasn’t enough available sunlight. He also excluded logic circuits and indicators, like LEDs, to further conserve power. For the interface to control various sound parameters, Morozov used elements that didn’t consume additional power, like light dependent resistors (LDRs). His intention was to perform it in the Judean Desert, the lowest place on earth. The silence of the desert allowed him not only to record unique sound attributes, but also create work in a way he wouldn’t have otherwise.17 Mike Blow is a British musician and engineer whose work often attempts to draw the listener’s attention to elements in the environment that they wouldn’t normally pay attention to. Deep Listening, a 2012 piece by Blow, is an installation on a raft. As the raft drifts down the river, solar powered microphones pickup and amplify the sound from below the vessel with the intention of “evoking a deeper conscience of the river using sound.”18 As with Pauline Oliveros’ original concept of deep listening, the name references both the literally deep recording site as well as the goal of listening deeply, with intention. Allan Giddy has incorporated field recordings and amplification into his practice extensively. Giddy connects specific cultural artifacts with particular geographic locations to explore issues of identity and place. He does this through combining culturally relevant recordings with live amplification of environmental elements. Frequently, his work also uses the environmental elements as a medium for output or transmitting sound as well. His 2014 installation England Expects… (2014) explored issues of migration, identity, and colonialism (Figure 6.5). In the work, fishing rods are mounted vertically adjacent to a body of water. Contact microphones are attached to the tips of the rods, which resonate in the wind, creating an Aeolian harp. The sound of the mics is mixed with the day’s UK shipping forecast. The cumulative sound is then looped and played through a solar powered amplifier and speaker mounted in a suitcase. A violin piece, composed in response to the sound of the forecast and harp is also played through speakers mounted to the suitcase. He writes, The musical composition binds the two less predictable sonic inputs, while the fishing lines anchor the ‘tone’ of the work in real time. The sonic output varies over time as the lines respond to tide height and wind strength, while a hint of things to come is ever present in the shipping forecast.19 The following year Giddy produced a variation on this work. England Expects … (Aotearoa) (2015) is, in the artists’ words, “a response to this very British installation.”

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Figure 6.5  Allan Giddy, England Expects … (2014). Courtesy the artist.

In this version a Māori incantation, known as a karakia, and spoken in the Māori language te reo, is played on the land side of the piece. Giddy’s most recent work, Flow (2018), uses a large underwater speaker to transmit audio recordings through a river. The work is a collaboration with First Nations children who recorded stories in their Indigenous languages, including Gadigal, Western Arrernte, and Anmatjere/Warlpiri.20 People can hear the recordings by putting a stick in the water and placing their ear next to it. The solar power system that powers the installation is hidden from the viewer and knowing the work is solar powered is not necessarily needed for understanding the piece. In recent years, Allan Giddy has taken a particular interest in this approach, in part because it allows him to move past the viewer’s perception of PV as a novelty and focus on the content of his work. Zach Poff’s Pond Station (2015)21 is a solar powered environmental sonification station on a floating platform on a freshwater pond (Figure 6.6). The permanent installation at Wavefarm, an arts organization in Acra, NY, broadcasts the sounds it collects on the internet from sunrise to sunset every day. Initially, the piece only used a pair of hydrophones to record underwater sounds. These sounds included the presence of fish, bugs, and reptiles, as well as external sounds that can be felt under the water, like a loud car. Weather events, like rain, and seasonal changes, like ice forming over the water, could also be perceived. Shortly after the initial installation, Poff added lights on the platform to attract insects at dusk. He used a photodiode light sensor, wired to an audio amplifier, to sonify the movement of bugs, and the fluttering of their wings, on the surface of the water. The sounds from all of the recording devices are mixed into a single feed that is transmitted to a nearby building. In a field recording, the hand of the artist is present in the choices that are made to foregrounded certain sounds. Poff is interested in the different rhythmic scales,

Sound Art 131

Figure 6.6  Zach Poff, Pond Station (2015). Courtesy the artist.

from yearly cycles to rapid animal noises. The environmental noises Poff captures sometimes sound like what one might expect to hear from “natural” field recordings. However, at times the noises seem as synthesized, rhythmic, and intentional as any electronic music. The sounds are all just the result of ephemeral activity of the pond system itself. For Poff, these moments of listening when you are not sure what is producing a particular sound lead to a sense of awe that is particularly exciting. It’s important for Poff that the listener doesn’t think the sounds are predetermined. He relies on automated dynamics processing so the levels are balanced across different scales of activity. If an insect is solo-ing right next to the hydrophone, the listener can hear it without it being blown out. When the sounds are quiet, the dynamics adjust so that subtler noises are audible. 22

Sonification of Light Frequencies Sonifying the frequencies of various light sources by connecting a PV module directly to an amplifier is another simple, but very dynamic approach, to making music with PV. Different types of lights and different electrical systems operate at different frequencies. Compositions can be created by a combination of maneuvering a PV module and modulating the frequency, type, position, and brightness of the light sources. This use of solar cells overlaps heavily with the use of photodiodes to transduce light into sound. Photodiodes are very similar to PV cells. They also rely on the photovoltaic effect, but are tiny and intended as light sensors, rather than being optimized to

132  Part III produce power. Photodiodes were commonly used to produce sound in film and have been employed by many artists to explore the relationship between light and sound, including some who have also worked with PV, like Zach Poff and Daniel Fishkin. 23 The artists discussed here are exploring this space specifically with PV cells and modules, not photodiodes. The use of PV to sonify light frequencies is often employed to explore energetic transformations and the perception of patterns within infrastructure. Like a field recording, the artist can draw the audience’s attention to patterns in the environment that they would otherwise ignore. The Japanese artist Minoru Sato has been producing work with solar power since the mid-1990s and his work often explores energetic transformations in objects that most people perceive as static and devoid of transformation. In the installation irregularity / homogeneity : emerging from the perturbation field (2000) Sato wires PV elements directly to a speaker without an amp. The PV modules lie flat on a table, directly facing three broken fluorescent bulbs. As the bulbs flicker on and off, the installation produces quiet electronic pops. Without an amplifier the sound is subtle and one must put their ear close to the speaker to perceive it. The installation is accompanied by text by Niels Bohr that reads, “something of which ‘lies outside the domain where it is possible to carry out a casual description corresponding to our customary forms of perception.’ ” Lightune.G, a Croatian ensemble founded by Bojan Gagić and Miodrag Gladović in 2011, composes performances and installations by connecting ¼" guitar cables directly to PV modules (Figure 6.7). 24 The cables are then plugged into the mixing board and amplified. They have developed the term luminoacoustics to describe this exploration of sonifying the frequency of light sources. Their name, Lightune.G, comes from the frequency of European electrical grids. The 50 Hz frequency of that system is close to G. Every different light source has a different pitch, texture, and harmonic content. Their initial performances used theater lights, handheld flashlights, and video projections to play the solar modules. They have employed all sorts of artificial lights in their work, as well as lighters and sparklers, to produce sounds. Because the sound of their work is so dependent on the electrical infrastructure at a given location, the sound changes if they are working in a different region. For example, when they performed in the United States, everything was transposed to 60 Hz, the frequency of the electrical system in that country. 25 In Route 666 (2013), six PV modules are attached to the roof of a van and fed into a mixer that plays through the vehicle’s sound system. The attendees of the performance, who are in the van, hear the music as it drives. During the day, the composition is created from shadows cast by buildings and trees and in the evenings the composition is created from artificial light sources, which all have their own unique characteristics. The route and speed of the van, coupled with the time of day, effectively becomes the music score and the driver is the composer. Lightune.G has collaborated and built instruments for a number of composers and ensembles, including Hugo Morales Murguía. They collaborated to develop an instrument that relies on a rotating programmable light in the center of the stage. Performers with solar cells connected to wireless microphone transmitters move around the light. The result is a sort of analog physical sequencer. One of the pieces Morales Murguía composed for this instrument is Forcefield (2019). In this composition, the light is in the center of a six meter-square performance area. Four performers are wearing the solar cells on their chests. Performers start the piece at the

Sound Art 133

Figure 6.7  Lightune.G, audio-visual performance July 20, 2012. Courtesy the artist.

134  Part III furthest points away from the light. As the performance progresses, they move closer to the center. As they do, the light rotates faster. The light frequency also changes over time, which alters the harmonic quality. Performers have handheld lights that are used to produce additional sounds. Their movements are guided by a set of open ended rules that allow for a different musical result with each performance. 26 Peter Blamey has used a similar technique in a number of his pieces. He has used light bulbs, video projections, infrared light, and lightning to induce sounds that are recorded or amplified for performances and installations. Invisible Residue (2014) sonifies infrared signals from old remote controls. In this work, Blamey is interested in highlighting the latent energy and aesthetic value in electronic detritus. The piece has taken a number forms, including performances, images, audio recordings, and workshops. To produce the sound pieces, Blamey directs remote controls at PV modules, which are directly connected to amplifiers. The infrared signals produce abstract pulses, beeps, and waves of noises. At times the sounds are rhythmic or suggest attempts at communication, like morse code or a digitized language that only your TV understands. Blamey’s Double Partial Eclipse (2014) (Figure 6.8) extends this technique further, combining it with power starving. The work is an improvised performance that uses the energy produced by solar modules to power two ebows. An ebow is a tool that uses magnetism to vibrate the strings of an electric guitar. Unlike Marold’s use of this similar technique for acoustic sounds, this work is completely electric. Here the energy travels from light bulb to PV module to ebow to electric guitar to

Figure 6.8  Peter Blamey, Double Partial Eclipse (2014). Courtesy the artist.

Sound Art 135 amplifier. In the performance, the artist stands behind a table with a guitar and lightbulb on it. The guitar has two ebows attached, which are each connected to different PV modules the artist is holding. Handles on the back of the modules allow him to easily move them around the bulb and sculpt the sound. The frequency of the light source is evident in the sound, but it is also augmented by the fluctuating power supply. 27

Additional Methods There are a number of additional techniques that have been employed to create PV sound art, which are not necessarily widely utilized, but highlight important aesthetic opportunities. One of these methods is work that uses PV cells as sensors. This typically relies on software to read voltage from the inputs and changes its output accordingly. This work is responding to its environment, but the power supply of the hardware is not impacted by fluctuations in light. This may mean the instrument is being supplied with traditional grid power or that the PV system includes a battery backup to provide a stable and consistent source of electricity. Christina Kubisch’s Dreaming of a Major Third: The Clocktower Project, discussed in chapter four, is one of the most significant examples of an installation that uses PV in this way. While there are not many artists using PV devices purely as sensors, because they generally substitute LDRs or photodiodes, it is worth mentioning as a distinct technique. Joyce Hinterding’s Plasma Wave Instrument (2002) is a particularly unique work, which produces sound through high-voltage sparks. In this work, a 12 volt PV module is transformed into 25,000 volts. The device discharges a large, bright spark that crackles, pops, and hisses through the air. The instrument is created by connecting a PV module to an oscillator, which turns the DC signal into a sine wave. This is passed through a flyback transformer repurposed from a color TV. A large metal ball is attached to the end of it, which is what throws off the spark. It’s a daunting artwork that invokes both intrigue and fear. Hinterding says, “I love the idea that… it’s kind of the benevolent energy from the sun becoming what is often seen as fairly evil high-voltage, burning through the air.”28

Notes 1 Nicolas Collins, Handmade Electronic Music 2nd ed. (New York: Routledge, 2009). 2 Bálint Bori, “Vita,” accessed September 15, 2019, http://www.balintbori.com/Balint_ Bori/Vita.html. 3 “Bálint Bori: Sound Objects,” Ludwig Múzeum, accessed September 15, 2019, https:// www.ludwigmuseum.hu/en/exhibition/balint-bori-sound-objects. 4 Patrick Marold, “Solar Drones,” Vimeo video, 3:47, November 18, 2016, https://vimeo. com/192178933. 5 Patrick Marold, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, March 2021. 6 Morton Waller, “Initial Tuning Structure of the Solar Drones,” 2016. 7 Peter Blasser, “Bird, Monk, Train: Three Approaches to a Solar Sounder Workshop,” eContact! 18, no. 3 (December 2016), https://econtact.ca/18_3/blasser_solarsounder. html. 8 Peter Blasser, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, November 2018. 9 Peter Blasser, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, November 2018. 10 Peter Blasser, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, November 2018.

136  Part III 11 Peter Blasser, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, November 2018. 12 Daniel Fishkin, phone conversation with Alex Nathanson, April 2021. 13 Scott Smallwood, “Solar Sound Arts: Creating Instruments and Devices Powered by Photovoltaic Technologies,” in Proceedings of the International Conference on New Interfaces for Musical Expression, 30 May–1 June 2011, 28–31, Oslo, Norway. 14 Ralf Schreiber, “Solar Sound Module,” accessed on September 15, 2019, http://www. ralfschreiber.com/solarsound.html. 15 Ralf Schreiber, “Sun Eater,” accessed on September 15, 2019, http://www.ralfschreiber. com/suneater.html. 16 Scott Smallwood, interview with Alex Nathanson, November 29, 2018. 17 Dmitry Morozov, “Mitrasonic,” accessed September 15, 2019, http://vtol.cc/filter/ works/mitrasonic. 18 Mike Blow, “Deep Listening,” accessed September 15, 2019, http://www.evolutionaryart.co.uk/deep.php. 19 Allan Giddy, “England Expects...,” accessed September 15, 2019, https://allangiddy. org/?p=738. 20 Allan Giddy, “Flow,” accessed January 11, 2021, https://allangiddy.org/?p=943. 21 Zach Poff, “Pond Station,” accessed December 13, 2020, https://www.zachpoff.com/ artwork/pondstation/. 22 Zach Poff, interview with Alex Nathanson, December 13, 2020. 23 Daniel Fishkin, “Dead Lion, or, The Musical Oscilloscope,” eContact! 19, no. 2 (October 2017),https://econtact.ca/19_2/fishkin_oscilloscope.html. 24 “Lightune.G,” accessed November 30, 2020, https://lightuneg.com/. 25 Lightune.G, interview with Alex Nathanson, December 19, 2020. 26 Hugo Morales Murguía, interview with Alex Nathanson, January 11, 2021. 27 Peter Blamey, interview with Alex Nathanson, December 4, 2020. 28 Joyce Hinterding, interview with Alex Nathanson, December 15, 2020.

7

Building Integrated Photovoltaics

Architectural applications are likely one of the domains that most people think of when considering PV art and design, because it has traditionally been one of the most visible sites of solar power in many environments. The aesthetics and level of visibility of PV hardware impact the viewer’s perceptions of the technology and have a potential impact on the rate of adoption.1,2 Announcements about new, more colorful, more transparent, more camouflaged, or more efficient building integrated PV (BIPV) products that are presented as harbingers of an explosion in the BIPV market occur regularly. These announcements occur despite the fact that many of these products are often years away from being commercially available, if they ever will be. BIPV has remained a niche market, even though it has been in use for decades and continues to be the source of a lot of public excitement around PV technologies. The works highlighted in this chapter serve as interesting examples of how technologies discussed elsewhere in this book have been applied at a larger scale in the 21st century. Building applied PV (BAPV) has continued to be installed at rapidly accelerating rates, but BIPV has lagged far behind. As the cost of all PV materials has decreased, the economic case for BIPV in new construction has grown increasingly favorable. In many contexts BIPV can now lead to financial savings, although it still varies widely based on the type of construction, material it is replacing, and region. In addition to the financial incentives, many expected that the potential benefits of BIPV, which can include visual appeal, multi-functionality, and lower embodied energy, would have contributed to its adoption. However, a host of issues have limited its deployment. Today, there are many examples of successful BIPV projects all over the world, and an increasing amount and diversity of BIPV products are available. Despite this, in the last 20 years, mainstream BIPV design approaches have not changed significantly and to the surprise of some, a lot of the challenges present around the turn of the century still persist today. Designing a BIPV system is more involved than a BAPV system. For a BIPV system to be economical, it often requires an intentional design approach that begins at the outset of the building design process. It also requires close collaboration between architects, manufacturers, engineers, and installers. Lack of knowledge of BIPV from architects and construction professionals is a significant barrier in this regard. Additionally, the lack of standardization related to BIPV makes getting approval for many BIPV installations more cumbersome than a BAPV system.3 The multi-functionality and aesthetics of BIPV may be more valued than efficiency. BIPV’s possible functions, beyond producing electricity and acting as a construction material, now include thermal energy production, daylighting, shading, noise reduction, fire protection, privacy, weather proofing, electromagnetic shielding,

138  Part III bird-friendly patterning, and structural strength. The technical developments that have emerged in this time period have enabled a greater range of design possibilities, particularly in regards to color and transparency. Efficiencies of BIPV tend to be lower than BAPV for a number of reasons. One of the most significant reasons is the thermal behavior of the modules. Without adequate airflow underneath the modules they heat up, which leads to decreased efficiency.4 Some BIPV systems address this by having an air gap or fans behind the modules for cooling purposes. Because these installations are particularly common in urban areas with higher building density, shading from other buildings may have a significant impact. BIPV is also most commonly mounted flush to the roof or facade, which is rarely the optimal orientation for them. Additional energy losses may come from design decisions that limit the amount of surface area utilized for PV. Certain PV cell colors or levels of transparency will also lead to less efficiency. Artistic interventions into full scale, permanently installed BIPV are rare, particularly when they are grid-tied systems. This is due in part to building code regulations. As with wearable electronics, the dichotomy between visibility and invisibility is an important distinction. The goal of many BIPV installations is to make the solar modules seem unremarkable and blend into their environment. However, there are plenty of arrays that take a bolder approach and use BIPV systems to drive the aesthetic of a building or make a statement. In contrast to the visual subtlety of much of the BIPV market, the goal of most artistic BIPV projects is to elevate the solar modules and bring them to the public’s attention.

Architectural Strategies A number of architectural design strategies have been used to visually integrate PV systems into buildings.5 A visually dominant PV system is integrated in such a way that it drives the design of the entire building or commands the attention of the viewer. Contrasting BIPV systems deliberately clash with other architectural elements and may feel collaged. Both of these approaches are almost always recognizable as PV systems. A subtle and complimentary system is balanced with other architectural elements. It may or may not be easily recognizable as a PV system. A camouflaged system attempts to mimic other materials and is obscured from view. A visually dominant BIPV design is often used as a statement in support of sustainable energy. In some cases this may be read as greenwashing, while in others it may be viewed by the public as a sincere expression of values put into action. It can also serve as a prominent example of solar energy in a form that may be novel and exciting to many people. Visually dominant PV systems are not very common in residential structures. One particularly vibrant example of a residential apartment building is the Quai de Valmy 179 building, in Paris, France (2011). The seven-story facade of the building is covered in 130 emerald green polycrystalline silicon modules.6 A commercial building making a loud public statement with solar is the Sanyo Solar Ark (2001). The ark-shaped building in Gifu, Japan produces 630 kW. 5,046 dark-colored solar modules cover nearly the entire southern face of the structure, which measures 315 meters wide and 37 meters tall.7 The ark was intended to be a symbol of Sanyo’s role as a leader in solar technology. It was also intended to present a positive face of the company after a scandal led to a significant amount of solar module recalls.8

Building Integrated Photovoltaics 139 When the PV system is driving the visual design of a building it can also potentially allow the structure to be oriented in such a way as to maximize the PV production. This can be relatively simple, like a facade that is on an incline so the modules are tilted optimally, or it can be a more involved tracking system with moving parts. La Seine Musicale (2017), a music and performing arts center, located on Seguin Island in the Seine River in Paris, France, is an example of the latter. The building is composed of a glass egg-shaped structure partially enveloped by a massive 800m 2 sail-shaped PV array, which sits atop a concrete structure where most of the building’s activities occur. The array produces 80,000kWh/y and stands 45 meters high. The sail tracks the sun’s positions, moving around the perimeter of the building, to maximize solar insolation.9 Contrasting and collaged PV systems feel distinct from the rest of a building’s design. An intentionally contrasting BIPV installation may be an interesting exploration of materials and forms or it could seek to highlight the evolving aesthetics of a culture. This approach is particularly common in historic architecture that has been retrofitted with BIPV. Conversely, there are many examples of unintentional contrasting PV systems that are simply the result of bad design or budgetary constraints. There are many ways that BIPV systems can be a subtle and complimentary addition to a building. An example of a complimentary installation can be found on Mediterranean style tile roofs. On these installations, thin film strips are placed vertically on the roof, between rows of tiles. They are still very much identifiable of PV elements, but attempt to work with the traditional structure.10 Designing a PV system to be invisible to the viewer, through camouflage or mimicry, is one of the most sought after visual attributes for BIPV systems. This can be accomplished through shape, color and transparency. One attempt at mimicry is in the form of roof tiles or shingles, which are used primarily in residential installations. These products have been selectively available in various styles since at least the late 1990s, but very few companies have had success with them. Initially, these products were made at the scale of a single tile or shingle. Many integrated PV tiles would need to be wired together to create the array. This approach was time consuming and expensive. Moreover, all of these individual electrical connections created more opportunities for failure and were difficult to repair. To address this, products with larger surface areas that mimicked a group of tiles or shingles were produced, but they have still not found widespread success. A particular PV tile or shingle could only match visually and mechanically with the rest of the roof if they were from the same manufacturer and are rarely interchangeable.11 The most well-known commercial product in this space, particularly in North America, is likely Tesla’s Solar Roof. Their product was first announced in 2016, but as of this writing they have yet to be able to efficiently install these systems at scale.12 A very different approach to camouflage comes from the company SMIT (Sustainably Minded Interactive Technology), who created a PV system designed to look like ivy, called GROW (2005) (Figure 7.1). The first iteration of their design generated electricity from both thin-film PV and piezoelectric generators to capture wind. The modular system is made up of small cells screen printed with conductive ink that look like individual leaves.13 Later iterations of GROW look less like literal leaves and don’t include the piezoelectric generator functionality, but rely completely on solar energy.

140  Part III

Figure 7.1 Samuel Cabot Cochran, Benjamin Wheeler Howes, SMIT Sustainably Minded Interactive Technology, LLC. GROW (Prototype). 2005. Thin film photovoltaics, piezoelectric generators, screen printed conductive ink encapsulated in ETFE fluoropolymer lamination, stainless steel, nylon, neoprene rubber, copper wire, and aluminum. 192 × 96″ (487.7 × 243.8 cm). Gift of Marie-Josée and Henry R. Kravis. Digital Image ©The Museum of Modern Art/Licensed by SCALA/Art Resource, NY.

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BIPV in Historic Building Preservation An important use case for BIPV is in retrofitting buildings that have a protected historic or cultural status. Historic buildings are generally inefficient, so there are significant opportunities to improve the energy performance in this sector. This is a particularly big issue in Europe where a large number of buildings have some level of heritage protection status.14 Retrofitting a culturally important building poses interesting questions around how cultures should evolve and react in response to climate related issues and new technologies. Should the landscape try to be maintained, should it completely change, or is there a way to adequately respond to climate change while maintaining an aesthetic connection to the past? Adding PV systems on these types of structures can encounter legal and cultural barriers that make it difficult to move forward with a project out of a fear that it will change the visual and cultural character. This is also a concern in areas that have significant tourist economies dependent on their history or landscape as a source of income.15 More and more governments are requiring aging, inefficient buildings to be retrofit to meet increasingly stringent environmental guidelines. Balancing these conflicting needs requires dynamic solutions, like BIPV. The facade of the Alès Tourist Office in Alès, France16 is a visually dominant BIPV installation that tries to coexist with traditional architecture. Completed in 2001, the BIPV facade covers three large multi-story bays on the south east side of the 11th century church building. The reflective PV walls are a strong contrast against the rest of the stone facade.17 In general, these concerns are primarily around maintaining a culturally relevant visual identity, however the motivations for historic preservation may be more focused on material conservation of historic structures. With concerns around visibility, the solutions include siting the PV system out of view of the public, camouflaging it in some way, or mimicking traditional building materials. Conservation concerns may require different tactics, like making the installation non-invasive and reversible. This may be necessary to reset the building at the end of the PV system life, support restoration or retrofitting needs in the future, or to maintain structural integrity of the existing aging construction materials.18 The retrofitting of Castle Groenhof, designed by Philippe Samyn is a prime example of a BIPV installation built to be reversible (Figure 7.2). The Belgium castle was originally constructed around 1830 and the retrofitting was completed in 1999. The frameless glass-encased PV modules are mounted on a steel frame on the South facade, which minimized the impact on the building.19

Transparency, Color, and Shape Over the last 20 years, advances in the color and transparency of BIPV technologies have had the most significant impact on the visual possibilities in this space. For the most part, these newer developments still haven’t become widely available. While there are evolving options for irregularly shaped BIPV products, there haven’t been any technological breakthroughs to dramatically expand the possibilities in this realm. The cell type employed in a given module largely determines the possibilities for color, transparency, and shape of the device. The two primary techniques for transparency from the end of the 20th century are still in use today. The first is the clear encapsulation method. In these modules,

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Figure 7.2 Philippe Samyn and Partners, Castle Groenhof (1996–99). Courtesy Philippe Samyn and Partners.

the PV cells are separated from each other so that light can pass between them. This allows the modules to make use of any type of cell, because light doesn’t need to pass through the cell itself. The second approach is through the use of semi-transparent thin films that let some percentage of the light pass through the cell. The retrofitted roof of the Béjar market, in Salamanca, Spain is a particularly illustrative example of this technique. 20 The project is composed of rows of rectangular PV modules with varying levels of transparency in a Piet Mondrian inspired design. Scattered in with these color-less rectangles are a few rectangles in red, green, yellow, orange, and blue. The use of different cell colors in combination with colored backsheets is also still present today. One newer technique for changing the color of a module is to apply a perforated or light-filtering film on top of it. The film can be used to display a solid color or graphic image, while still allowing light to reach the underlying PV cells. This method is predominantly used to camouflage or add commercial branding to PV arrays, but has also been employed by the artist Shala and the organization Land Art Generator. Olusola “Shala.” Akintunde is a Nigerian-American artist who started working with solar power in 2016. He was drawn to working with solar because of the strong cultural significance of the sun. The mysticism and symbolism it has inspired are fertile ground for creative exploration and communication. Shala approaches his craft as a branding exercise, with the intention of making solar feel sexy, iconic,

Building Integrated Photovoltaics 143 and ultimately ubiquitous. Shala’s largest work to date is Shala’s Bronzeville Solar Pyramid (2017). The work is a 16ft tall pyramid with PV modules on all 4 sides, covered in vinyl cutouts in the shape of minimalist icons. Lights embedded in the structure turn on in the evening. Shala worked with a group of high-school students to design some of the icons featured on the sculpture. The icons that they created included geometric explorations, Egyptian-inspired imagery, symbols of modern-day technology, and personal logos. Land Art Generator’s Solar Mural Artwork Program, which began in 2017, uses a similar applied film method. The organization collaborates with artists and community groups to develop site specific prints to feature on PV arrays. En Aquellos Tiempos Fotohistorias del Westside (2020) (Figure 7.3), a mural they produced in San Antonio, Texas, was a collaboration between Esperanza Peace & Justice Center, local artists, and a 5th grade class. 22 Their installation was mounted on the facade of an elementary school and measures 210-by-288 inches. The image on the upper half of the array is a photograph of students from the elementary school in 1906. The bottom half features a photo of the current 5th grade class. The array provides electricity for illuminating other artworks on the street that highlight the history of the neighborhood’s residents. 21

Figure 7.3  En Aquellos Tiempos Fotohistorias del Westside (2020), a Land Art Generator Solar Mural Artwork. Visual graphic by San Antonio artist Adriana Garcia with creative direction by Penelope Boyer. Poetry by Carmen Tafolla. Photography on artwork by Antonia Padilla.

144  Part III Shape in BIPV components is generally less a factor of the cell itself, and more about its substrate or encapsulation. For example, if the PV module needs to be in the shape of an octagon, standard shaped cells are placed on an octagonal shaped substrate. When used in combination with camouflaging techniques it can create the impression of an irregularly shaped two dimensional module. Three dimensional shapes can be created through the use of flexible thin films or cleverly engineering rigid cells on pliable substrates. It is also possible to have a top layer of the module’s encapsulation with three dimensional topography that still lets light pass. 3rd generation PV cells are becoming increasingly viable options, but for the most part are still not stable and reliable enough to be widely employed permanently in buildings. Dye-sensitized Solar Cells (DSSC) are one of these newer technologies that have been used in interesting architectural applications. The first full scale exterior BIPV project with DSSC was the west facade of the SwissTech Convention Center, in Lausanne, Switzerland, which opened in 2014 (Figure 7.4). 23 The 300 m 2 design generates roughly 8,000 kWh per year. The design is composed of 1400 cells, each 35×50 cm, in varying shades of red, green, and orange24 that are mounted in long vertical strips. The Dutch designer Marjan van Aubel has garnered widespread acclaim for her innovative use of DSSC. Van Aubel has a knack for creating seamlessly integrated PV devices. Her Current Window (2015) (Figure 7.5) projects manage to make the technology feel both holistic and well integrated, while still creating a strong statement about what the future could be. The pattern used in one iteration of the window combined three panes of rectangular yellow PV cells with clear glass in various shapes.

Figure 7.4 DSSC facade, SwissTech Convention Center, in Lausanne, Switzerland (2014). Photo by David Martineau (Solaronix SA).

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Figure 7.5  Marjan van Aubel, Current Window (2015). Courtesy the artist.

A second iteration was completely composed of a variety of colored DSSC cells in a zigzagging pattern. The window ledges have a built-in battery with USB ports for charging devices, which makes it very easy to engage with. Another BIPV technology that can be accessible for artists and designers to experiment with is Luminescent Solar Concentrators (LSC). LSC is used to create a uniform looking window that doesn’t appear to be a PV module. The window is made from a sheet of colorful semi-transparent fluorescent plastic or in some more advanced cases a colorless, fully transparent material. These materials redirect particular wavelengths of light towards their edges, while allowing other wavelengths to pass through. PV cells are embedded in the window frame and convert the redirected light into electricity. Initially proposed in the 1970s, 25 LSC module efficiencies have been reported to be as high as 7.1% efficient in lab tests.26 As with DSSC, it also has the ability to function in indirect light and can be much cheaper than a traditional module. This method is found in Marjan van Aubel’s Power Plant (2018). Power Plant is a prototype greenhouse. The transparent solar glass utilized in the structure powers grow lights and water pumps.

Architectural Applications of Textile PV Materials Textile-based BIPV systems generally use lamination techniques to secure the PV components to a textile. Textile PV materials are found in a wide range of architectural contexts. They are used internally and externally, on permanent and temporary structures, with on-grid and off-grid installations, and in fixed and tracking arrays. Interior uses often focus on elements like curtains, because they tend to be exposed to the most light. Exterior textile PV applications include awnings, tents, and cladding.

146  Part III Kennedy & Violich Architecture, a firm founded by Sheila Kennedy and J. Frano Violich, has explored a number of innovative design concepts involving soft architecture and PV. Their project IBA Soft House (2014)27 combined a number of passive solar techniques with an innovative use of solar powered textile materials. The building is composed of four row houses constructed with sustainable building materials. TIPV cladding provides shading while generating energy. The electricity produced by the PV system is directly used in a number of low voltage DC systems, like lighting, to maximize energy efficiency. Through the use of highly visible PV cladding they positioned energy harvesting as the focal point and public identity of the building. 28 One of the most novel aspects of the design is using the flexibility of the textile in a dual-axis sun-tracking system, which the inventors call twisters. The end of the long TIPV ribbons that make up the cladding are rotated in the east-west direction, which twists the fabric to track the sun over the course of the day. The tilt of the system is adjusted over the course of the year, to account for seasonal changes. The use of tracking systems to increase PV energy production was more prominent in earlier eras, because the cost of PV has now become cheap enough that the efficiency gains from expensive tracking no longer make financial sense. However, dual-axis tracking can still be important if the goal is to maximize energy production. Because of all of these mechanized and responsive elements, the architects have described the house as an active house that happens to meet passive building standards. Pvilion’s work relies on dynamic engineering approaches to create scalable and efficient PV structures and products (Figure 7.6). Their approach to design and engineering also speaks to many of the challenges of working with TIPV. It questions some of assumptions around the need for flexibility, a highly desired characteristic that drives much of the interest in PV textiles. Pvilion was spun off of FTL Solar in 2011, which in turn grew out of FTL Design Engineering. FTL Design Engineering was a design and engineering consulting firm that specialized in tensile structures. Tensile structures, like tents, use tension, rather than compression, to create lightweight structures. They often rely on fabric or cables as the primary building material. FTL Design Engineering’s move towards solar came in the mid-1990s when they participated in the Smithsonian Institute’s exhibition, Under the Sun: An Outdoor Exhibition of Light. Their 32 foot tall canopy with integrated flexible thin-film PV modules generated a lot of press. It was brought to the attention of their United States military clients, who wanted to use that technology. FTL Solar was spun off from FTL Design Engineering in 2006 with the intention of exclusively developing solar integrated tents for the military. Eventually, FTL Solar identified an emerging civilian market for this technology in high-end architectural and consumer product applications. Pvilion was created as an independent company to address this market and was explicitly not planning on doing work with the military that would be in competition with FTL Solar. In 2012, when FTL Solar closed, Pvilion took on much of their military work. Pvilion’s work with civilian companies forced them to develop cheaper and more efficient processes than the methods they had employed with their previous military funded projects. 29 Pvilion’s design approach centers on creating a multipurpose product that adds value beyond the power generating capabilities, shrinking the building block of the array, and questioning assumptions around a project’s technical needs. These additional values include shade, shelter, and rain protection, among other uses. Their

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Figure 7.6 Photovoltaic membrane designed by Pvilion, Solar Decathlon—Techstyle Haus (2014). Photo Kristen Pelou.

work is typically not integrated into existing structures, primarily because the economics of a single purpose project are not in its favor. For Pvilion, there is an important difference between flexibility and curvature. Many clients approach Pvilion specifically because they think their project will require flexibility, but this is often not the case. Factors like the degree of curvature and how frequently the material needs to flex impact whether the PV material itself truly needs to be flexible and that drives the technology chosen for a given project. The scale and curvature radius of most Pvilion structures is large. At a big scale, the curve across a given span may be minimal enough that they don’t actually need a PV type that would traditionally be thought of as flexible. Colin Touhey, the co-founder and CEO of Pvilion, argues that flexibility is not key, rather it is understanding the design and engineering constraints, and changing the scale of the PV building block to reflect the structure’s proportions and geometry. If the building block is a four by six foot rigid solar module it will produce a polygon when attached to a tensile structure. By designing at the cell level, typically 6 by 6 inches, even if the cell itself is rigid, the space between the cells doesn’t necessarily have to be and the desired curvature can be produced. This enables different rigid PV technologies to be employed that are often cheaper or more efficient than flexible PV materials. For Touhey, the allure of flexible PV materials is often misguided. Companies that manufacture these technologies often have a poor grasp on their potential users and use cases for their products. In his view, overvaluing flex in the PV marketplace is

148  Part III partly why many flexible PV companies have not been successful. One of the biggest drivers of company failure is having unreasonably high expectations for sales and growth. This is particularly prevalent for venture backed businesses, who often have very significant initial R&D expenses and the threshold for success is often unreasonably high.30

Photovoltaic Architectural Art Glass While many artists and designers have engaged with BIPV materials in creative and expressive ways, very few of them have actually permanently integrated their work into buildings. This is largely because any attempt at integrating an electrical device into a building has complex engineering and regulatory demands that it needs to conform to, regardless of whether it is an art object or not. All BIPV devices need to be certified as safe, which is a significant investment of time and money that most artists aren’t able to accommodate. While certification is a standard practice in the mainstream PV industry, and the costs are factored into business decisions, certification for a one-off art object rarely makes sense. One area of BIPV that has seen a number of permanent artistic interventions is in the context of architectural art glass. Art glass is a broad term that encompasses any decorative glass object. These objects can be created from a very broad range of techniques. The type of work being discussed here is often referred to as stained glass, which traditionally refers to painting or adding elements into glass to color it. What distinguishes the work discussed in this section from some other work that is also sometimes referred to as stained glass, like DSSC, is primarily where the artistic intervention occurs. Architectural art glass artists are designing the amount, arrangement, and color of the PV cells, but are primarily working with the glass elements in the module. In the PV art glass works highlighted below, the color and pattern of the glass generally does not interfere with the function of the PV. However, the visual design determines the available surface area for the PV cells. The backsheet of the encasement is generally where the artistic intervention happens. This leaves the face of the PV cell still fully exposed to light. The aesthetic of these works often resembles that of a collage or assemblage, with the different materials, textures, and techniques, being layered on top of one another. There are a few likely reasons that architectural art glass has emerged as a suitable area for PV integration. First, the established artistic techniques of architectural art glass are largely compatible with the addition of PV materials and do not need to be dramatically changed. Second, because these objects are already destined for use in architecture, the installation of art glass and BIPV glazing is similar. Also, because the artists were already working at this scale, they would already be familiar with some of the bureaucratic challenges in this domain. Finally, architectural art glass is most commonly situated in institutional contexts. Architectural projects for schools, governments, and religious groups may have large budgets that can accommodate the additional costs associated with PV art glass. One of the earliest and most prolific artists working with PV integration into architectural art glass is the Canadian artist Sarah Hall. Hall opened her own studio in 1980 and began working with PV in 2005. Over her long career she has produced hundreds of architectural glass works. Around the year 2000, her work outgrew her facility in Canada, so she began collaborating with Glasmalerei Peters, a

Building Integrated Photovoltaics 149 well-known glass studio in Germany, where she could produce larger projects. It was at Glasmalerie Peters that she was first introduced to the possibilities for incorporating PV into her work. Hall’s introduction to solar power came from Christoph Erban, an electrical engineer working with semi-transparent PV glass. He arrived at the studio one day to enquire if any of the artists would be interested in creating work that incorporated PV cells. Most of the other artists were not interested, because they thought the need to include a grid of PV cells would be too restrictive and imposing to their designs. For Hall, this was an exciting prospect that could allow her to bridge her interests in ecology and architectural glass. The introduction to Erban was coupled with the unavoidable prevalence of BAPV on the rooftops around Germany, which further drew her attention to the possibilities in this space.31 Glasmalerei Peters had started working with PV when the artist Klaus Jansen introduced Wilhelm Peters, the grandson of the studio’s founder, to the concept. Their first PV art glass works were completed in 2002.32 Their book about their early work with PV cells, Photovoltaik in Verbindung Mit Glasgestaltung (translated as Photovoltaics in Connection with Glass Design) (2003) documents these early projects and their motivations. Their publication stands out both for the content and for its design, which includes a fragile solar cell adhered to the front cover. It features writing from the glass makers, clergy, engineers, and artists discussing the intersection of ecological awareness and Christianity, ruminations on the role of stained glass in the church, and discussions of the social, political, and economic importance of sustainable energy and climate change. Glasmalerei Peters has also collaborated with a number of other artists since then to create PV art glass works. While Glasmalerei Peters has produced projects all over the world, their work with BIPV art glass is concentrated in North America and Europe. Hall’s interest in PV is to make her work look not just beautiful, but meaningful, and to bring more visibility to renewable energy technologies. Her approach is based on a belief that if the technology can be presented in an aesthetically pleasing and surprising way, it can lead people to a better conversation around renewable energy. While all of her works are functional, they are first and foremost artworks and maximizing efficiency and producing economic value isn’t the primary goal for her or her clients.33 Hall’s work combines environmental, religious, and historical subject matter in lively designs. She employs a wide range of techniques and materials that can include airbrushed enamel, gold leaf, etching, fusing glass, hand painting, lamination, screen printing, digital printing, and sandblasting. Her work also often features a lighting element, which is powered from her solar array, and is intended to illustrate the function of the PV elements. In all of her works, she has used polycrystalline silicon PV cells in colors including blue, green, grey, gold, and silver. She finds that the polycrystalline cells provide a sense of movement and a more animated look than the uniform monocrystalline or thin film cells. Because each of Hall’s projects are unique, she has to go through the entire module certification process each time. Hall’s first full scale BIPV work was Lux Nova (2007). This work was a threesided wind tower with twelve PV art glass modules integrated into the face of the structure. The energy is stored in batteries to power lights in the tower at night. The work is located at Regent College, a Christian theology school in Vancouver. The windows feature twelve crosses, made from dichroic glass, and an etching of the text of the Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic. It is likely the first permanent architectural art glass project in North America to incorporate PV.

150  Part III Hall’s next work, The Science of Light (2009), was created for Grass Valley elementary school in the town of Camas, Washington (Figure 7.7). This work was installed on the main entry stairwell to the school and was made up of 12 window panes, coupled with a DC light fixture. Hall was chosen to design this work specifically because the architects wanted to have a PV system that students could see and engage with. They struggled to find solar installers that were interested and capable of taking on this task. Everyone they talked to would only install the system on the roof of the building, which would have been out of view of the students. In addition to the embedded PV cells that are visible in the window facade, a light fixture is directly powered by the PV system. Without any batteries, the light fixture clearly demonstrates the function of the system and makes the connection between weather conditions and energy production clear.

Figure 7.7  Sarah Hall, The Science of Light (2009), photo by A.J. Rose. Copyright Sarah Hall Studio.

Building Integrated Photovoltaics 151 This project is also an example of a sustainable energy artwork that opened the door for broader uses of the technology. At the time of the installation, Camas didn’t allow solar panels and there was a concern that the project wouldn’t be able to proceed. While frustrating, Hall took this as a teachable moment to start a conversation with community members and bring them into the process, ultimately getting approval for the project to move forward. These challenges reflected broader difficulties Hall has encountered with BIPV installations in North America, from cultural roadblocks to lack of installer expertise, which in her experience lags behind the industry in Europe.34 Lux Gloria (2011) (Figure 7.8) is perhaps the clearest example of the connection between Hall’s PV art glass work and the tradition of stained glass in monumental religious spaces. The work is sited at the Cathedral of the Holy Family in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. The building is composed of a series of polygons at odd angles, leading up towards a pinnacle, with a large cross on top. Hall’s windows shine above the entrance to the cathedral, just underneath the cross. The installation is composed of three large windows, each with 18 panes of glass and a total of 1015 PV cells embedded throughout. In 2013, this system was tied into the city’s electrical grid and offsets the energy demands of the building. Traditionally, stained glass has been used to express an institution’s values and beliefs. For Hall and her clients, bringing sustainable energy technologies into the tradition of religious stained glass is an important way to highlight contemporary ethical concerns. She says, “When you mention the word stained glass, most people think of traditional church windows, bible stories pictured in a Victorian style. This is the 21st century and we need to be thinking about our stewardship of the earth’s resources and not stay immersed in nostalgia.”35 Today, her artistic interest in solar power is centered around the possibilities for using organic and DSSC cells in combination with bird friendly patterning, to minimize the chance of birds colliding with the buildings. However, these 3rd generation PV materials don’t have long enough life spans to fit the rigorous requirements of her projects and she has yet to make use of them in her practice.

BIPV Media Walls The GreenPix—Zero Energy Media Wall, completed in 2008, is a massive solar powered LED video screen, designed by the architecture firm Simone Giostra & Partners (Figure 7.9). The project is an integrated curtain wall system at the Xicui entertainment complex Beijing, China, which was located near the site of the 2008 Olympics. It was the first BIPV glass curtain wall system in China and, at the time it was constructed, it was the largest color LED display in the world. The system used polycrystalline silicon PV cells, arranged in varying levels of density on glass modules, to allow light into the interior of the building. 36 The surface of the wall isn’t completely uniform. Some modules are offset from the wall at slight angles. The PV cells are highly visible when a viewer approaches the wall, particularly during the day when the LEDs aren’t on. The project was originally designed and installed as a self-contained off-grid system. It was later connected to the grid.37 The architect has referred to the GreenPix – Zero Energy Media Wall as a type of dynamic time-based architecture made from hardware, software, and content.38 The massive 24,000 square foot exterior surface has 2,292 RGB LEDs integrated into it.

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Figure 7.8 Sarah Hall, Lux Gloria (2011), photo by Grant Kernan. Copyright Sarah Hall Studio.

It has a very low resolution. There is one pixel every three feet, roughly the equivalent of a 64×37 pixel display. The low resolution is a way of responding to, and pushing back against, the obsession for high-resolution commercial screens that pervade many areas of both private and public life. The lower resolution has the added benefit of consuming less energy. The architect wanted to explore how much information was actually

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Figure 7.9  GreenPix by Simone Giostra and Partners with Arup (2008).

necessary for communicating both abstract poetic visualizations and the functionality of the PV system itself. The wall is intended to be a venue for digital media art, with the possibility to feature videos, photographs, interactive video games, and live media performances. The low resolution lends itself to abstraction and is particularly well suited for exploration by media artists working in these genres. The opening of the venue featured installations and performances that engaged with the wall.

Future Directions for BIPV The potential market for BIPV is massive. However, it is considered to be extremely difficult to estimate its true size.39 The opportunities are particularly pronounced in urban areas, where space is limited and the ability to mount solar modules on a facade may be particularly valuable. There is also particular value in BIPV for historic preservation of buildings. Roughly 40% of global energy is consumed by buildings, making it a crucial space to account for if we are ever to successfully address the climate crisis.40 Increasingly, governments around the world are requiring new construction to incorporate energy producing technologies and as these regulations take effect some portion of this market will likely benefit the BIPV industry. It should be noted that researchers have been inaccurately proclaiming the emergence of this massive BIPV market for at least three decades now, so only time will tell if it actually comes to fruition. There are many challenges associated with BIPV that still persist, which span engineering, design, installation, maintenance, and regulations. A number of these challenges are cultural and can potentially be addressed through education and legislation, while others are limitations with the current state of the technology. Many of the most exciting technical developments that provide opportunities for interesting design applications are not widely available. As these techniques become more established and the hurdles lessen, we will undoubtedly see more artists and designers working in this difficult space.

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Notes 1 K.S. Wolske, K.T. Gillingham, and P.W. Schultz, “Peer influence on household energy behaviours,” Nature Energy 5 (January 2020): 202–12, https://doi.org/10.1038/ s41560-019-0541-9. 2 Núria Sánchez-Pantoja, Rosario Vidal, and M. Carmen Pastor, “Aesthetic Perception of Photovoltaic Integration within New Proposals for Ecological Architecture,” Sustainable Cities and Society 39, (May 2018): 203–14, doi:10.1016/J.SCS.2018.02.027. 3 Rafaela A. Agathokleous and Soteris A. Kalogirou, “Status, Barriers and Perspectives of Building Integrated Photovoltaic Systems,” Energy 191 (January 2020): 116471, doi:10.1016/j.energy.2019.116471. 4 Mohammad A. Alim et al., “Is It Time to Embrace Building Integrated Photovoltaics? A Review with Particular Focus on Australia,” Solar Energy 188 (August 2019): 1118–33, doi:10.1016/j.solener.2019.07.002. 5 Pierluigi Bonomo, and Pierluigi de Berardinis, “BIPV in the Refurbishment of Minor Historical Centres: The Project of Integrability between Standard and Customized Technology.” Journal of Civil Engineering and Architecture 7, no. 9 (September 28, 2013). https://doi.org/10.17265/1934-7359/2013.09.003. 6 Patrick Heinstein, Christophe Ballif, and Laure-Emmanuelle Perret-Aebi, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): Review, Potentials, Barriers and Myths,” Green 3, no. 2 (2013): 125–56, doi:10.1515/green-2013-0020. 7 Peter Fairley, “Can Japan Recapture Its Solar Power?” MIT Technology Review 118, no. 1 (2015). 8 NEWS SERVICES, STAFF AND. “Sanyo chief said to be resigning over scandal.” San Diego Union-Tribune, The (CA), October 25, 2000: C-4. NewsBank: Access World News – Historical and Current. https://infoweb-newsbank-com.proxy.library.nyu.edu/ apps/news/document-view?p=WORLDNEWS&docref=news/116D32785E15F7A7. 9 Ike Ijeh, “Building Study: La Seine Musicale, Paris.” Building Design (May 2017): 12–17. 10 Heinstein, Ballif, and Perret-Aebi, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): Review, Potentials, Barriers and Myths,” 125–56. 11 Heinstein, Ballif, and Perret-Aebi, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): Review, Potentials, Barriers and Myths,” 125–56. 12 “What Happened to Tesla’s Solar Roof Tiles?” CNBC, September 24, 2018, https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABR4KgXoZPE. 13 “Grow (Prototype),” Museum of Modern Art, accessed September 14, 2020, https:// www.moma.org/collection/works/110222. 14 E. Novak and J. Vcelak, “Building Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV) in Line with Historic Buildings and Their Heritage Protection,” IOP Conference Series: Earth and Environmental Science 290, no. 1 (2019): 012157, doi:10.1088/1755-1315/290/1/012157. 15 Agatino Rizzo, “Managing the Energy Transition in a Tourism-Driven Economy: The Case of Malta.” Sustainable Cities and Society 33, (August 2017): 126–33, doi:10.1016/J. SCS.2016.12.005. 16 Flavio Rosa, “Building-Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV) in Historical Buildings: Opportunities and Constraints,” Energies 13, no. 14 (July 2020): 3628, doi:10.3390/ en13143628. 17 “Monuments Historique: Office De Tourisme D’Ales Et Des Cevennes,” PV Database, accessed August 13, 2020, http://www.pvdatabase.org/pdf/Office_du_tourisme_Ales. pdf. 18 Rosa, “Building-Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV) in Historical Buildings: Opportunities and Constraints,”3628. 19 “352-Castle Groenhof,” Samyn and Partners, accessed December 27, 2020. https:// samynandpartners.com/portfolio/castle-groenhof/. 20 “Bejar Market,” Onyx Solar, accessed August 20, 2020, https://www.onyxsolar.com/ bejar-market. 21 Shala, interview with Alex Nathanson on July 27, 2020.

Building Integrated Photovoltaics 155 22 Land Art Generator, “Land Art Generator Solar Mural Artwork with Esperanza Peace & Justice Center,” accessed December 26, 2020, https://landartgenerator.org/blagi/ archives/77016. 23 Solaronix, “Inauguration of the SwissTech Convention Center,” April 3, 2014, https:// www.solaronix.com/news/inauguration-of-the-swisstech-convention-center/. 24 “EPFL’s campus has the world’s first solar window,” accessed May 11, 2013, https:// actu.epfl.ch/news/epfl-s-campus-has-the-world-s-first-solar-window/. 25 W. H. Weber and John Lambe, “Luminescent Greenhouse Collector for Solar Radiation,” Applied Optics 15, no. 10 (October 1976): 2299, doi:10.1364/ao.15.002299. 26 Wilfried van Sark et al., “The ‘Electric Mondrian’ as a Luminescent Solar Concentrator Demonstrator Case Study,” Solar RRL, vol. 1, no. 3–4 (April 2017): 1600015, doi:10.1002/solr.201600015. 27 “IBA Soft House,” Kennedy & Violich Architecture, accessed July 10, 2020, http:// www.kvarch.net/projects/87. 28 Sheila Kennedy and J. Frano Violich, “Three Partial Paradigms,” video, 1:29:29, October 1, 2018, https://www.arch.columbia.edu/events/1093-kennedy-violich-architecture. 29 Colin Touhey, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 19, 2020. 30 Colin Touhey, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 19, 2020. 31 Sarah Hall, “Solar Projects,” YouTube video, 6:18, June 11, 2020, https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=Gihp5TvP1Aw. 32 Glasmalerei Peters, Photovoltaik in Verbindung Mit Glasgestaltung (Paderborn: Glasmalerei Peters GmbH, 2003) 6. 33 Sarah Hall, interview with Alex Nathanson on July 27, 2020. 34 Sarah Hall, interview with Alex Nathanson on July 27, 2020. 35 Sarah Hall, “Solar Projects,” YouTube video, 6:18, June 11, 2020, https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=Gihp5TvP1Aw. 36 Simone Giostra & Partners, “GreenPix - Zero Energy Media Wall Press Kit,” accessed July 31, 2020, http://greenpix.sgp-a.com/press/PDF/GreenPix_press-kit_EN.pdf. 37 Simone Giostra, email correspondence with Alex Nathanson, 2020. 38 Simone Giostra, “SMAC,” YouTube video, 5:30, November 7, 2008, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uy5h5BnTxA&feature=emb_logo. 39 G. Masson and I. Kaizuka, Trends in Photovoltaic Applications 2019 (International Energy Agency, 2019): 91. 40 Erik Vickstrom, Building-Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV): Technologies and Global Markets (Wellesley, BCC Research, December 2016).

8

Sculpture and Installation

PV sculpture and installation in the 21st century is exemplified by the increasing accessibility of PV materials and the public’s changing perceptions of the technology. As PV system components became cheaper and less precious, it was easier for artists to experiment with them. The public perception of solar power evolved significantly during this time, because the hardware became a more visible part of many landscapes and the impacts of climate change became increasingly evident. Many artists felt that solar power’s artistic potential, i.e. its ability to communicate, changed alongside the public’s understanding of it. The artworks discussed in this chapter range widely in technical applications, scales, and conceptual approaches. They demonstrate the uses of art in entertainment, education, and activism. The conceptual approaches span abstract poetics to concrete education frameworks, touching on topics that include history, environmental racism, and more. Many of these works are critically engaged in social issues or are subversive in some way, while others border on decorative or commercial, but together they paint a picture of PV sculpture and installation as a complex communication medium. These projects span the use of solar cells as sculptural material, kinetic art, light installation, video installation, and public art. They are united in their reliance on the physicality of the object to create meaning and communicate ideas as well as being in dialog with the history of sculpture. The line between sculpture and installation can be blurry. Sculpture can be thought of as a discrete object that can be moved and installed in any number of spaces, or at least any white walled gallery space, without significantly changing its meaning. While its component parts can be dissected and considered, sculpture is often initially approached as one unified object. Installation, on the other hand, can comprise numerous separate objects assembled in and tied to a particular context. Installation is always in conversation with its environment or is the environment itself, although the boundaries of what constitutes an environment are flexible. With an installation, meaning is constructed through the viewer’s act of drawing connections between discrete elements in a work and their surroundings. The growth of PV artistic practice over this time correlates to an increase in exhibitions dedicated to this subject as well. These exhibitions include Off the Grid (2009) at Goldwell Open Air Museum (USA); Desert Equinox (2012) at Broken Hill Art Exchange (Australia), curated by Allan Giddy; Nightlight (2014) at Flux Factory (USA), co-curated by Carina Kaufman-Gutierrez and myself; and Jaras Light Fest (2019) at Bangkok Art and Culture Centre (Thailand). These events have helped draw attention to PV artistic practice and foster a growing community of practitioners.

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Solar Cells and Modules as Sculptural Material Beyond simply placing PV materials into a creative context, the creative redesign of the most basic building blocks of a PV system allows for a complete rethinking of the expressive capabilities of PV. Examples of artists and designers working with the PV cell itself and their design strategies have been discussed in other contexts already. Jürgen Claus’ BIPV work, as well as textile practitioners such as Marianne Fairbanks, demonstrated the complexity of both designing at the cell level and integrating it into a larger system. The projects featured here are not necessarily part of larger systems. The art or design object is the functional PV module itself, although in some instances there are additional components that may be a core part of the work. The scale represented in this group ranges from the tiniest micro-scale PV devices to massive solar arrays. These designs are in service of communication and prioritize visual layout, while, in some instances, de-prioritizing electrical efficiency. There are three broad strategies that are common within these projects. First, irregularly shaped PV cells can be laid out to create unique designs. Second, PV cells or modules can be treated like pixels that can be either on or off to form designs. Third, an intervention can be made on the surface of the cell with either the layout of electrical contacts or etching. The first approach is to use non-standardized PV cells to create designs. The cells are typically either broken by accident and upcycled or intentionally shaped, by hand or laser cutting. These cells are usually wired together by hand and, thus far, this approach has not been scaled up for mass manufactured designs. Artists like the Art and Energy Group and I are working with irregular shaped PV cells to create dynamic non-standardized compositions. My own work uses solar cells as a sculptural material for mosaic-like modules that display text or designs. For example, 6V Solar Mosaic: Refugees Welcome (2017) spells out the phrase “Refugees Welcome” in solar cells of varying sizes and shapes (Figure 8.1). The piece referenced the Syrian refugee crisis that had been unfolding since 2011, where millions of people were forced to flee from their homes, and alluded to the emergence of climate refugees, people who are displaced because of the impacts of climate change. The PV cells used in these works were upcycled cells that had been damaged in the manufacturing process and resold. Most PV modules and arrays use highly standardized and repetitive cell sizes, making it easy to calculate the anticipated power to be produced. However, work that is using irregular shaped PV cells has to contend with additional electrical challenges. The amperage capable of being produced by a string of solar cells is restricted to no greater than the surface area of the smallest cell. This becomes one of the primary design challenges when working with irregular shapes. In 2018 a UK-based collective called the Art and Energy, led by Chloe Uden and Naomi Wright, began producing PV designs based on a laser cutting technique they developed in collaboration with various fabricators (Figure 8.2). The use of laser cutting allows them to create precise shapes for geometric designs with predictable electrical characteristics. In addition to their experiments with cutting, they have employed a masking technique which contributes to their work’s distinctive clean look, by hiding the tabbing wires that connect the individual cells together.1 The second method treats PV cells or modules like a pixel that can be either on or off. This method is the easiest to scale up and is common with larger installations,

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Figure 8.1  Alex Nathanson, 6V Solar Mosaic: Refugees Welcome (2017). Courtesy the artist.

because it can use established industry techniques for both the manufacturing and installation. The designer Krystal Persaud uses the square, and occasionally triangular, PV cell as a building block for creating larger images. Similarly, a number of companies are using the PV module as a building block in creating designs for solar farms, typically to display a company logo. Krystal Persaud’s Solar Cat (2019) is a 140 watt PV module in the shape of a cat that powers an educational display (Figure 8.3). Billed as, “The Cutest Solar Panel Ever Made,” the piece evokes internet era click bait in the service of introducing viewers to solar power. Visitors are able to flip a switch which lights up a small house on the display and emits a “meow” sound. Visitors can also charge their cell phones off of power produced by the installation, via two USB ports mounted on the display. 2 At the opposite end of the scale spectrum are commercial solar installations and massive solar farms that use this pixel technique to depict logos and images. A number of companies have turned to this as a way to garner media attention for their environmentalism, whether or not it is actually deserved. The use of solar power in corporate branding is an interesting example of potential greenwashing. The array itself is evidence of some environmental action, but if the company isn’t being accountable for their environmental impact on the whole this could easily be classified as greenwashing.

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Figure 8.2  Art and Energy, Dawn Breaks (2019). Courtesy the artist.

Figure 8.3  Krystal Persaud, Solar Cat (2019). Courtesy the artist.

160  Part III Target and The Walt Disney Company are two prominent examples of companies that have employed large solar arrays for advertising. In 2016, The Walt Disney Company built a 20-acre 5 MW solar farm in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head in Florida. The design is composed of 48,000 PV modules and is estimated to produce 10,500 MW hours per year.3 Target has a large solar array, in the shape of their target logo, on the roof of one of their distribution centers in Phoenix, Arizona. The array, installed in 2017, produces 3,000 MW hours of energy per year.4 This approach has also been used by churches that have laid out PV modules in the shape of crosses on their roof. The simple, but easily identifiable, cross shape lends itself to this technique. This same technique has been applied to a number of massive solar farms, predominantly in Asia. Two prominent examples include Panda Green Energy Group’s solar farm, completed in 2017, that depicts panda bears and State Power Investment Corporation Nei Mongol Energy Co’s horse shaped solar farm that was completed in 2019. In all of these cases, these branded or stylized solar arrays, which can often only be seen from the air, bring valuable publicity to their owners. The third method is to intervene in the design of the surface of a cell. This can be done in a number of ways, including designing the layout of the metallic electrical contacts on the top of the cell or etching into the cell itself. The electrically-conductive metal traces on the face of the cell are most commonly laid out in a grid. The placement of this material is crucial for creating the electrical connections between the cells and the way they are engineered can impact the electrical properties of the object. However, they can be positioned in more visually pleasing patterns without necessarily decreasing the efficiency of the cell. Etching can be both a design element and has the potential to enable greater light capture.

Kinetic Sculpture Since Joe Jones’s kinetic sound works, in the late 1970s, and BEAM’s early development, in the late 1980s, the range of approaches for PV kinetic sculpture have continued to expand. There are numerous examples of mostly playful, and occasionally menacing, robots and moving sculptures. For smaller machines, it is still very common for them to use the same, or only slightly modified, underlying circuits as the original analog BEAM designs. The influence of the BEAM technologies and ethos has proven to be enduring. Larger kinetic works often use microcontrollers with programmable logic instead. Many artists use both approaches. All of these works build on themes that have continuously been at the forefront of robotic and solar powered art, such as cybernetics, the nature of autonomy and the meaning of intelligence. Björn Schülke has produced an extensive collection of kinetic works that often take the form of large suspended mobiles or small wall mounted sculptures. The majority of his work is either painted completely white or completely black. Their movements are visually intriguing, but not necessarily decodable to the viewer. His explorations of surveillance and energy transformations are particularly relevant here. The surveillance work leverages both menacing and playful aesthetics that bring up issues of perceived danger versus actual danger, and the subtle ways technology observes us and collects our data, often as its unspoken primary purpose. There is a lot of ambiguity in these surveillance works, as it is unclear whether the devices are paying close attention to you the viewer, which adds to their mystery.

Sculpture and Installation 161 Drone #2 (2002), a literal surveillance apparatus, is a mass of hardware, wires, and electronic components suspended from the ceiling of a gallery, with rods protruding from it at odd angles. Heat sensors cause the piece to respond to humans entering the space. Gears and pulleys activate various movements of the sculpture, while a propeller spins the sculpture around. Solar modules are mounted on the top of the sculpture and a video monitor, displaying the footage it is capturing with its camera, is mounted on the bottom.5 Luftraum #1 (2012) (Figure 8.4) is visually very similar to Drone #2. It appears less menacing, but no less opaque in its reaction to the viewer and movements. The work responds to motion, but does not engage in any video or audio surveillance beyond that. The mobile sculpture is precariously balanced, with a wire frame and a weighted ball hanging below that changes the angle of the sculpture as it is raised and lowered. A wing flaps up and down, causing the work to rotate. The orientation of the wing periodically changes, causing it to reverse direction.6 In contrast to those works, Planet Space Rover (2004) is cheery and cartoonish, though no less intrusive. The piece was originally installed in an outdoor garden, which adds to its presence feeling more benign than some of the other pieces. Except for the solar modules and video display screen, the sculpture is completely white. The upper part of the sculpture is egg-shaped, with a number of antennas, cameras, audio components, two small solar modules, and two propellers protruding from it. This sits on top of a three-legged base, which has the two slightly larger solar modules sticking out horizontally from its sides. The entire piece resembles a cross between a satellite and a robot from a sci-fi movie. The “head” of the sculpture rotates,

Figure 8.4  Björn Schülke, Luftraum #1 (2012). Courtesy the artist/bitforms gallery.

162  Part III periodically alternating directions, as the propellers on the top of it spin. The video monitor, mounted to the front of the piece, alternates video feeds from the cameras. The second subtler trend within Schülke’s practice relates to his works that use PV in more poetic explorations of the production and transmission of energy. While all of Schülke’s works could be framed as transmitting or transforming energy in one way or another, and his antennae laden satellite aesthetic also reflects this, there is a small set of works that explicitly explore this function. The Solar Turbine (2011), as well as some of his sound sculptures, use the energy produced by the solar cells to move air through the use of a small fan or bellows. Beam Engine #1 (2016) and the Mirror Machines (2016) use mirrors to relay light, while Solar Magnetic Needle (2019) uses magnetism to extend kinetic movements from a motor to a suspended needle. Schülke’s works that transform or relay energy are fascinated with the magic of small phenomena. Beam Engine #1 and the Mirror Machines reposition small mirrors, which is an interesting take on the poetics of absorbing solar energy to produce, or in this case reflect, light. Beam Engine #1 periodically shines a small laser pointer on to a rotating mirror, reflecting the laser beam onto the wall the sculpture is mounted to. The title is of course a pun on both the use of a laser beam and BEAM design. Even though BEAM-style circuitry is a central element of Schülke’s smaller works, the visual aesthetic and ethos are very different. Schülke’s work has a distinctly refined look. Particularly with the work that is completely coated in dense white automotive paint, any utilitarian, DIY, or upcycled aesthetic that may have emerged if the artist had left the electrical components exposed becomes completely obscured. The glossy white paint reduces the sculptures to minimalist forms and highlights their shadows. It gives them a sterile scientific or space aesthetic removed from everyday experience. The Mirror Machines series consist of sculptures whose only function is to rotate small mirrors attached to a motor’s shaft.7 Periodically, the mirrors rapidly spin around changing the reflection of the light. This work explores the interplay between taking light in and turning it into energy with the repositioning of light itself. A subtle connection can also be drawn between the artist’s surveillance works and these pieces. His use of mirrors can be seen as a corollary to his use of surveillance cameras, audio receivers, and other technology that captures or reflects data. More recently, some of Schuelke’s works have explored the use of magnetism in combination with these types of BEAM-style circuits. These works use magnets to manipulate and hold objects in precarious positions that border on surreal. Solar Magnetic Needle (Figure 8.5) uses a motor with a horizontal arm and magnet attached to the end to manipulate a hanging metal sewing needle. The motor periodically rotates a few degrees at a time. As the shaft rotates, the magnet moves closer to the needle. When it gets close enough, the magnet pulls the needle to it, holding it at an angle suspended in the air. As the motor continues to turn, the needle travels with it, staying aloft as if by magic. After rotating roughly 75% of the way around, a small protrusion stops the needle from continuing to move with the motor. Once the magnet on the motor has moved far enough away from the needle, the needle swings back to its original plumb position. When the magnet once again moves close enough to the needle, the process starts over.8 Daniel Imboden makes kinetic sculptures that demonstrate complex behaviors through mechanical feedback. His sculptures often display precarious motions, either swinging, spinning, or balancing objects. Some of these devices also play with the exposure of the PV cells by moving objects to temporarily obscure them, which in

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Figure 8.5  Björn Schülke, Solar Magnetic Needle (2019). Courtesy the artist/bitforms gallery.

164  Part III turn changes their electrical output, impacting the mechanical behaviors. Two works that exemplify Imboden’s ability to create dynamic and precarious movements are Licht und Schatten (2014) (Figure 8.6) and Solarwippe (2017) (Figure 8.7), translated as Light and Shadow and Solar Rocker respectively. Both of these works use analog circuits that rely on a delicate pairing of electrical components to work elegantly. Light and Shadow is a free form circuit, which he describes as a “kinetic solar wall relief.”9 The work is a square, wall-mounted sculpture with four solar cells running diagonally from the top left to the bottom right. Above the three solar cells on the right are motorized pendulums that swing back and forth. At the end of each pendulum arm there is a copper square, roughly the same size as the solar cells. As it swings back and forth it obscures the solar cell influencing the amount of energy being generated. Solar Rocker is a ball track with both ends slightly curved up that rests on a central fulcrum, like a seesaw. The solar cells are placed face up on the bottom of the track and a metal ball rests on the top. The PV cells control the speed of a motor in the base, which tilts the track up and down. As the track changes position, the ball rolls back and forth, temporarily shading the cells as it passes over them. Seemingly by some unknown regulatory force, though in reality the solar powered mechanism, the ball never falls off. As it nears the end of the track, the lower end lifts up sending the ball rolling back in the opposite direction. Gilberto Esparza’s work examines the impact of humans on the earth, urban environments, interspecies collaboration, and the confluence of ecology and cybernetics. He creates complex autonomous devices that survive based on the strategies of biomimicry, upcycling, and incorporating various, often subversive, energy harvesting techniques. Over the course of his career he has built work using a number of different types of energy harvesting strategies that include surreptitiously attaching robotic

Figure 8.6  Daniel Imboden, Licht und Schatten (2014). Courtesy the artist.

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Figure 8.7  Daniel Imboden, Solarwippe (2017). Courtesy the artist.

devices directly to public power lines to steal grid power, solar power, photosynthesis, and producing electricity from microbial fuel cells through a bioelectrochemical process. In Esparza’s work, traditional distinctions such as those between clean energy or dirty energy, the natural or the technological, and off-grid or on-grid are toyed with and sometimes flipped on their heads. Esparza’s 2007 project, Perejil Buscando Al Sol,10 which translates to Parsley Looking For The Sun, is a series of small solar powered robots that are each intended to help keep a parsley plant alive in an indoor space with limited sun exposure (Figure 8.8). The bots provide a means of survival in an otherwise plant-hostile indoor human world. Each device is composed of one parsley plant growing in a small planter bed, made of clear plastic, on wheels, and filled with soil. On both the left and right sides, clear plastic arms extend vertically, curving outward with a solar cell mounted on top. On the bottom of the device are two motors that control the wheels. The device is wired in a “X” configuration, with the PV cell on the left directly wired to the motor on the right and the PV cell on the right directly wired to the motor on the left. When at least one of the solar cells is exposed to light, the device drives silently around the floor, turning towards the light and away from shadowy areas. This simple yet clever system enables the PV cells to both power and steer the device.11 When the right side is in shade, the left wheel is stationary while the right wheel spins, pivoting the bot towards the brighter area. While plants have their own, often underappreciated, way of moving through the world to ensure their survival, like seeds being picked up by the wind or roots extending downward, Esparza’s system gives it a less restrained type of mobility that is perhaps better suited for a human-dominated world.12 Another robotic work intended for symbolic climate resiliency and repair is Joaquín Fargas’ Rabdomante (2019) (Figure 8.9). Rabdomante, which translates to water diviner in English, is a slow-moving robot that uses solar powered Peltier Cells to obtain a small amount of water. The machine has wooden sides, four wheels, and is covered in solar modules. At the center of the device are Peltier Cells. Peltier Cells use

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Figure 8.8  Gilberto Esparza, Perejil Buscando Al Sol (2007). Courtesy the artist.

electricity to produce a temperature gap. One side of the device becomes hot, while the other side becomes cold. When the cold side is exposed to the atmosphere, it cools the air to below the dew point and condensation forms.13 The work is far from practical and only produces a few drops of water. Fargas located the work in the Atacama desert in Chile, one of the driest places on earth. He wanted to create a new type of cycle. The sun evaporates the water in the desert, but it also feeds the solar panels that power the Peltier Cells to obtain water. Fargas likes to work in what he has described as the possibility space. This is the gap between reality and fantasy, i.e. real functional technologies that won’t be of practical use for some time, but inspire people about the possibilities of the future.14

Light Works Artists have identified the simple, yet powerful, connection between devices that both take in and emit light as a fruitful vehicle for artistic exploration. In these sculptural works, the intrinsic connection between solar energy and light becomes a source of minimalist poetic metaphor and a tool for visualizing and drawing attention to environments. The works highlighted here are concerned with the expressive capabilities of light. They are presented in formal exhibition spaces, outdoor venues, and guerilla installations. Some of these artists are creating large visual spectacles, some quiet unexpected moments, and others dynamic performances. In some cases light is being used to convey an abstract concept and in others it conveys specific pieces of data. Spencer Finch is an artist whose work is deeply concerned with perception and memory, often in relation to subtle natural phenomena like the color of light. His poetic

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Figure 8.9  Joaquín Fargas, Rabdomante (2019). Courtesy the artist.

approach moves between esoteric technical exploration to pseudo-science demonstrations. His work explores subjective personal perception in relation to collective experiences that range from everyday occurrences to monumental historical moments. His solar powered installation, Lunar (2011), attempts to transform sunlight into moonlight (Figure 8.10). The solar panels taking in sunlight to power the artwork symbolize the way moonlight is just reflected sunlight. The 11 foot tall structure was inspired by the Apollo Lunar Module used on US space missions between 1969 and 1972.15 The sculpture takes the shape of a glowing buckyball, sitting on top of a base, with two solar modules sticking out of the sides. The buckyball emits light that is precisely calibrated to match the color of the full moon in July 2011 in Chicago, the city where the work was first installed. In addition to the historic relationship between the PV industry and the space industry, the aesthetic of space travel recurs throughout many areas of the PV art and design. Finch’s practice is steeped in a deep knowledge and fascination with the way light has been depicted throughout art history. He writes, I have always loved nocturnes and the impossible attempts to paint near-darkness in near-darkness. I figured there were probably enough literal pictures of the moon, so I began thinking about the form of moonlight and how it is actually reflected sunlight. This led me to explore the use of solar power to generate the light of the moon. The structure of the lunar module and the buckyball followed in short order—I thought it would be fun to imagine that a lunar module returning from the moon with moonlight on board landed on top of the Art Institute.16

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Figure 8.10  Spencer Finch, Lunar (2011). Courtesy the artist.

Finch returned to working with solar power for Sunset: Central Park (2015). This work was a pastel colored ice cream truck fitted with a large expanding solar array. The truck served free vanilla soft serve ice cream dyed a particular shade of yellow, which Finch termed “edible monochromes.”17 The color was based on a watercolor study of a sunset Finch had painted from the vantage point of the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, adjacent to Central Park. The work was intended to create a poetic connection between the solar array powering the ice cream machines and the sunset inspired ice cream color. The project was first presented in Central Park. As one might imagine, giving away free ice cream in a crowded public park on a hot summer day quickly led to long lines of people. Because of the high demand, the load on the system depleted the batteries quickly and led to frequent downtime. The work was only truly solar powered in the right conditions. It was not always situated in areas with adequate sunlight and was forced to rely on grid-power or a generator often.18 Ralf Schreiber creates installations with overhead projectors and kinetic bots. In these works, solar powered devices are positioned on the surface of an overhead projector with the PV cell face down, towards the light source underneath it. Using the projector base as its light source, the bots cast their own shadows as they move about and interact with one another or deform various materials which change the light being projected on a wall. In Prick Bot (2009–11) a little solar powered bot with a needle sticking up vertically is placed on the surface of the projector. A sheet of aluminum foil is positioned above the bot, obscuring the projection. As the bot gets activated by the projector light and slowly moves about in a random path, it periodically moves the needle up and down, puncturing the aluminum foil. At first a starry night scene emerges as many little holes are created. Eventually these holes converge into one large

Sculpture and Installation 169 area of light projected onto the wall, which Schreiber describes as a supernova. In Echoing Contacts (2014), diamond shaped bots are placed on the projector. They periodically rotate, forming new geometric shapes as they bump up against one another. The sound of the bots knocking into one another is manipulated by recording onto a tape loop, with a delay, amplified and played back in the room. The magnetic tape is positioned on another overhead projector, and its undulating motions as it loops around are projected on the wall next to the projection of the bots.19 While most of these projects employ light in a poetic or metaphorical way, Margaret Seymour’s installation Solar Echo (2014) uses light to directly convey environmental data. In the work, insolation data is collected during the day and is replayed via a light display in the evening. Seymour collaborated with Andrew Burrell for programming the installation. 20 The installation is composed of 16 glowing orbs, and was installed on an ocean-side cliff as part of the La Lune: Energy Producing Art exhibit. 21 By transposing the light exposure from day to night, the work encouraged viewers to pay attention to everyday changes in the environment, rather than only becoming attuned to these shifts during extreme weather events. Perched on a cliff in this way, like a lighthouse, the work is a warning against succumbing to an out of sight, out of mind, sort of attitude in regards to climate change. Like Finch’s work, this piece re-creates a particular light moment, but while Finch wants you to stay frozen in a perfect summer day that never changes, this work encourages you to become more aware of exactly how the world is changing. A very different approach to solar powered light art is Jason Eppink’s Solar Projector series, which began in 2013 (Figure 8.11). Eppink is an artist and curator who works with guerilla urban interventions and media. Many of his projects from

Figure 8.11  Jason Eppink, Solar Projector (2013). Courtesy the artist.

170  Part III this era repurposed existing infrastructure in playful and subversive ways to create unexpected moments of joy. This guerilla street art project repurposed off-the-shelf solar powered spotlights to project illustrations in unexpected urban locations. In addition to the light, the projectors are constructed from upcycled slide projector lenses, PVC tubing, Shrinky Dinks, and weather stripping. Shrinky Dinks are a children’s arts and craft material that became popular in the 1980s. The transparent material shrinks and hardens when heated, which serves as a low tech way to make high-resolution illustrations for the projectors. The projectors are created by gluing the Shrinky Dink piece directly onto the lamp, mounting a slide projector lens inside the PVC tube, and then attaching the tube to the light. Lights with only one LED needed to be used in order to project a clear image. Eppink typically uses simple illustrations of silhouettes of people falling, which are projected onto the sides of buildings. The work speaks to the feeling of being in emotional free-fall and unmoored in a large city. When installed in an area with a lot of ambient light, the work is subtle and can be easy to miss. For those who discover the project, it was meant to evoke a moment of unexpected intrigue as they try to decipher the image and figure out where it’s coming from. Without needing to be plugged in, the work could be discreetly installed in an outdoor location. 22 The Solar Projectors fall under the umbrella of Solar Graffiti, a concept Eppink co-developed with the artist David Darts that uses a variety of types of solar powered lights for visual interventions in public space.

Video Installation Video art is one of the least explored areas of PV artistic practice. This is largely because video processing, playback, and display technologies have historically consumed a relatively large amount of energy, when compared to other artistic mediums. Up until recently, video display equipment was often much more expensive than the equipment required to present other mediums as well. While the technical challenges in this space are significant, it has been an extremely fruitful area of exploration for those who have dived into it. This is in part because both technologies are intrinsically tied to light and time, providing ample room for drawing poetic connections between them and creating artistic forms that follow these parallel functions. There is a long history of exploring light and time in video art. The history of video art, and earlier media like experimental film and photography, provides artists working in this space with the language to apply these ideas to PV as both tool and subject. What distinguishes video sculpture or video installations from simply video art is its physicality and reliance on particular hardware or context. In this instance, the presence of PV is central to the piece for some of the same important reasons discussed in other mediums: that the work is uniquely enabled by PV or it engages with PV as a medium for communication. Light is the central element of any photographic process, both as a tool and compositional element. In either role, which are often overlapping, light is a crucial ingredient in transformations that are reminiscent of the energy transformations discussed earlier. Light is used to define the aesthetic of a scene, set a mood, illuminate or obscure details and, when manipulated through a lens, and captured in either an electronic or chemical process, it transforms something happening in the physical world into its recorded form. The exploration of the properties of light, its role in

Sculpture and Installation 171 perception, and its propensity for abstraction and metaphor have a deep history in video art, as well as its analog predecessor experimental film. A few examples include Tony Conrad’s structuralist film The Flicker (1966) and Anthony McCall’s expanded cinema work Line Describing a Cone (1973). The Flicker is a 30 minute long film that displays only black and white frames moving at varying rates. Structural film is a filmmaking technique concerned with formal properties rather than the content itself and has influenced artists working with environmental inputs, like solar power. The minimalist and poetic relationship between light being absorbed and emitted is also present in the context of video. The creative potential of the media display device can be seen in expanded cinema. Expanded cinema is a loose term that considers the presentation of an experimental film as an event or performance. It often uses display equipment as a part of the artwork itself or as an instrument. The audience is also an important element of the event. In McCall’s piece, over the course of 30 minutes a beam of light slowly traces the outline of a circle, leaving a thin trail behind it, which ultimately results in a cone of light visible. The light sculpture, projected on 16mm film, is visible in the air through the use of a smoke machine.23 Numerous other techniques also have useful parallels to PV poetics. Perhaps the most blatant parallel that can be drawn is between looping, a highly common editing technique, and the daily cycle of the sun. While there are not many artists working with PV video installation, the techniques and language of video art have much in common with other light and time-based art forms. Digital animation is present in the abstract light sequences of the GreenPix— Zero Energy Media Wall. Some of Björn Schülke’s surveillance machines had video elements. Ralf Schrieber’s overhead projection works are also deeply informed by the history of expanded cinema. Chris Meigh-Andrews is perhaps the most prolific artist in this relatively small space, as well as one of the first. Meigh-Andrews is a British media artist and video historian that has been working heavily with video since the 1970s. He has been incorporating sustainable energy systems into his art practice since 1994. 24 In his PV works, Meigh-Andrews is primarily concerned with the aesthetic and poetic possibilities of movement, the transformation of energy, and the “parallels between energy and thought.”25 Often, these concerns intersect with explorations of the history of technology and the contrast between natural systems and man-made systems. His work also brings up important questions about how art influences society and how the evolving use of sustainable energy systems changes its ability to communicate. His work engages with sustainable energy technologies, not as a starting point that generates something from nothing, but as embedded within larger systems and networks. He is interested in their ability to transform and transduce, and the metaphors derived from those functions. Meigh-Andrews attempts to create meaning in his work through the relationship between the physical presence of the objects, their functions, and interconnections between those objects. In much of Meigh-Andrews’ work he presents the viewer with a series of visual connections and processes that they can identify and decode. Once they trace the path of the transformations, the concept of the work emerges. 26 Meigh-Andrews’s first work to incorporate solar power was Fire, Ice & Steam (1995), a multi-room installation exploring the industrial heritage of the Cleveland, North Yorkshire region in the United Kingdom. In one room, four framed PV modules were mounted on each wall of the gallery space, with each one connected to a

172  Part III 12 volt battery and tiny LCD monitor. The monitors displayed a looping time-lapse animation of an ice cube melting and refreezing. The ice formed the phrase “that time.” The lights in the room would sequentially turn on and off in a clockwise pattern. The turning on and off of the lights was meant to draw the viewer’s attention to the light source, but the flickering had no interaction with the video and only minimally produced any power from the PV modules. Meigh-Andrews intended the work to convey the relationship between energy, light, and time. In the context of the broader installation relating to industrialization of that region, the work also speaks to the contrast between agrarian work cycles, which generally coincided with sun-hours, and industrial labor, which made use of artificial light. While the PV here was functioning, it wasn’t self-sustainable. The lights weren’t powerful enough and Meigh-Andrews had to charge the batteries in the evening from the grid. 27 Mothlight (1998) depicts a computer animated moth flying on solar powered video displays (Figure 8.12). The work references the origins of the term “a bug in the system,” which refers to the story of a moth that interfered in an early computer’s circuitry. Through this metaphor the work explores the delicate, and often abrasive, relationship between technology and the natural world. The indoor installation used artificial light, from halogen light bulbs plugged into the building’s main gridtied power supply, to energize the PV modules, which were connected to CRT video monitors. The video was played off of a U-matic machine with ¾ inch tape. MeighAndrews views the work as a “set of nested illusions”28 moving from the digital animation of the moth, the suggestion of motion as the moth image flies to different screens accompanied by panning audio around the room, and the mechanical motion of the mobile from which the monitors, lights, and PV modules are suspended. The

Figure 8.12  Chris Meigh-Andrews, Mothlight (1998). Courtesy the artist.

Sculpture and Installation 173 artificial light powered PV system adds an additional layer to the illusion. A later iteration of the work, Mothlight II (2001), used the solar panels to power wireless transmitters that sent the video signal from DVD players to digital projectors. The artist considered this an extension of the symbolic flight of the moths. In addition to continuing to explore the relationship between technology and nature, Mothlight highlighted Meigh-Andrews’ subversive use of renewable energy. He often blatantly uses artificial light or wind, clearly powered by plugging in to grid-tied wall outlets, to activate solar cells or wind turbines. He writes, “Solar panels aren’t used to generate electricity, but act as passive conductors, transducing light from the domestic mains power point. Meanings are created via an inversion of the ‘conventional’ application so that electricity is serving the poetic, rather than the technological.”29 Meigh-Andrews’ 2002 installation For William Henry Fox Talbot is perhaps his clearest exploration of connecting PV solar power to the history of photographic technologies. The work, created for the Victoria & Albert Museum’s exhibition Digital Responses, 30 was a reaction to William Henry Fox Talbot’s 1835 image of a latticed window at Lacock Abbey. Talbot is the inventor of one of the first photographic processes, and the latticed window image was one of the earliest photographs he took. Talbot’s original image marked the emergence of one of the most important technologies of the last 200 years. Meigh-Andrews’ work responds to this by creating a facsimile in the relatively new and similarly important technologies of digital photography, networked computer systems, and PV solar power. In Meigh-Andrews’ installation, a solar module installed on the roof of the abbey powers a video camera that produces an image of the window composed like Talbot’s original photograph. As with the original, sunlight enables the image to be captured. In the original, the transformation from physical object to recorded image is enabled through a light sensitive chemical process. In the re-creation, it is a PV-powered digital one. A live feed of the image produced by the video camera was transmitted via an ISDN phone line to the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. The received image was projected on the wall of the museum, at full scale, in real-time. Talbot’s book The Pencil of Nature, which when it was published in 1844 was the first book of photographic illustrations ever published, was displayed adjacent to the projection at the museum. Talbot’s original image was delicate. At the time that it was taken, he had only recently figured out how to fix the image so that it wouldn’t quickly fade. Meigh-Andrews recaptures some of this precariousness through his reliance on solar. Though it was not his intention, this piece harkens back to an early role of PV systems as relay points within larger networked systems that enabled information to be transmitted. In this instance, the information being relayed is not purely data, but also symbolically transferring the light from the abbey that was activating the PV system and being captured by the camera to the museum wall. One could imagine this relationship being extended even further today with the use of fiber optic networks. Interwoven Motion (2004), a temporary ten day long outdoor installation that used both PV solar power and wind power, was installed in a remote area in Grizedale Forest in Cumbria, England. The piece focused heavily on the relationship between landscape in art history and the conflict between the “natural” and “man-made”.31 In this work, Meigh-Andrews temporarily attached four surveillance cameras around the trunk of a tree. Four solar modules were also attached to the tree, while the wind turbine was mounted on a tall pole. The camera’s images were routed to a weatherproof LCD monitor via a video switcher. The speed at which the video feed

174  Part III switched, as well as the order of the video feeds to be displayed, was determined by the wind velocity and direction. The artist struggled to find equipment that was energy efficient enough to run off of the system. He ended up using very tiny security cameras and a small monitor. This enabled enough battery capacity to run the setup for 72 hours in the event of inclement weather. Visitors to the area would potentially see the wind turbine and solar modules from a distance, but the video could only be seen if one happened upon that particular location. If a visitor was to find the work, they would encounter it without any accompanying text or explanation of any kind and it would be up to them to decipher it. The artist considered the piece to be a partial step toward creating an installation that spoke directly to the landscape in which it is sited, in a symbiotic relationship to the land. The work can be understood as a quasi-structural video piece. MeighAndrews was not primarily concerned with the content of the images on the screen, but rather the moments produced by complex interactions of environmental and technological systems. He writes, The specific video images produced by the installation were in themselves of no direct consequence- they were simply part of a flow of very subtly changing ephemeral moments. For me, the relationship between the light and the wind was at the core of the work. The light and wind provided the source of the images both in terms of the generation of the electrical power, which supported the video and electronic apparatus and in terms of the direct physical and visual experience that became part of the work. (Day/night, ambient light and the movement of clouds, and foliage, the changing weather conditions, etc.)32 This piece accomplishes something relatively difficult and unique in the video field, which is the symbiotic and direct relationship between aesthetic output and environmental conditions. The artist was also interested in the contrast between the durability of the tree and the delicateness of the technology outdoors. The use of sustainable energy also brings to mind the inverse relationship, that of fragile ecosystems and environmentally destructive technologies.33 Other themes in this work that can be found throughout MeighAndrews’ practice include the use of PV modules as a surrogate for a tree’s leaves. Meigh-Andrews’ most recent work that incorporates sustainable energy is a series of small sculptural pieces exploring the notion of contradictory ideas. Impossible Object Number 1: Imagine (No Pollution) (2016–17) explored the “misplaced optimism regarding the role of renewables to ‘save the planet’”.34 Lamps shine on solar modules, which power a small music box that plays the first few bars of John Lennon’s “Imagine” on repeat. As with most of his indoor pieces, the lamps are intentionally and clearly plugged into the wall outlet: A commentary on how renewable energy sources are a crucial part of the solution to climate change, but they are only a part. Renewables like solar or wind are often misunderstood and held up as a savior technology, but a particular technology alone cannot save the planet. These technologies and their successful implementation are always a part of larger technical, economic, and social systems. In the time since Meigh-Andrews began working with sustainable energy their prevalence in both the built environment and culture has changed significantly. When he first began working with the material few people knew what a solar panel looked

Sculpture and Installation 175 like, and some didn’t even know what they were, which created a certain set of challenges. Now that they have become pervasive, their potential as a physical object that can be interpreted by a viewer has changed.35 Writing in 2020, Meigh-Andrews described the shift in the public’s perception of the materials he was working with and its impact on the poetic potential of his work: The environmental issues have been brought into much sharper focus, as there is a far greater public awareness of the danger to the environment posed by the use of fossil fuels. For example, in my earliest work visitors were not always able to immediately recognise the function of the solar panels as transducers of electrical energy, but now these objects are so commonplace that they are not perceived as remarkable or intriguing and their potential as a symbolic or poetic device has been considerably eroded. This shift in consciousness makes the environmental dimension of the work too dominant, and weakens its impact and potential, and this requires that I either accept this and move on, or try to discover a new level of significance and relevance for them in my future work.36 For Meigh-Andews, the ability of the viewer to draw connections between elements in an installation is restricted by these changes. As these objects become further utilized and more present in our built environment, a development that Meigh-Andrews regards as positive and crucial to combating climate change, the more immediate recognition of them by the viewer limits this introspective aspect and curtails the sense of wonder he hopes to cultivate. Additionally, as the meaning of these objects get further tied to climate change related concerns, there is less of an opening for the viewer to make their own unique judgments of the work. This is a difficult balancing act, because without at least some level of knowledge about the underlying technology the viewer can’t fully decode the installation and arrive at its deeper conceptual meaning. This position is an inversion of Allan Giddy’s belief in the need for artists to move past the technology so it can disappear. Meigh-Andrews’ position runs counter to both artists who want the technology to fade into the background, like Giddy, and those that are primarily interested in the larger cultural significance and connection to climate change. None of these conceptual threads are inherently more valid than another, but they demonstrate the numerous ways that the technology can be utilized and interpreted.

Public Art Electronic artworks installed in public spaces lend themselves to the use of solar power particularly well. In addition to the communicative value of PV, because they are very often outside, even if a grid-tied electrical connection is available, utilizing PV may be easier or cheaper. Because of its high visibility, public art is uniquely positioned to engage in dialogue with the public, as opposed to a more narrow art audience, and meaningfully confront issues that other artforms might have difficulty addressing. Public art has the opportunity to be a site for public education and speak to issues of history, collective memory, and community, as well as create space for dialogue around an idea or physical space for underrepresented groups. For public art powered by sustainable energy, these issues typically intersect with the themes of climate change, sustainability, resiliency, democratizing resources, and social justice

176  Part III issues. As highly visible examples of sustainable energy systems, some public artworks also have the opportunity to take the lead in further integrating sustainable energy into our built environment. In addition to these potential benefits, public art must also confront the possible negative impacts it can have and its associations with gentrification and environmental racism. Artists have a role to play in driving political change, democratizing the energy transition, and designing physical infrastructure. The field of public art makes this role very visible. In its broadest sense, public art encompasses any work presented in the public realm and freely accessible by members of the public. Public art can be thought of as work that meaningfully engages with the public and derives its meaning or value from that interaction. This definition would encompass a work installed on the side of a private building, but still fully accessible to all, or guerilla interventions in public space. Illustrating historical connections between the past and present is a common subject matter and goal of many public art works. Pozdrav Suncu (2008), translated as Greeting to the Sun, by architect Nikola Bašić is a large animated light display installed on the waterfront in Zadar, Croatia. The work is a 22-meter diameter circle on the ground that has 10,000 LED lights and many solar cells embedded in it. Around the edges of the circle are carvings of the names of saints that local churches had been named after. Along with the names, the dates of the saints’ feast days, the hours of sunlight on that day, and the declination and zenith of the sun on that date, are also inscribed. During the day the solar cells charge batteries and, in the evening, the lights turn on and are animated to create different shapes, patterns, and colors. The animated lights, which are reminiscent of an under-lit dance floor, allude to the motion of the nearby waves. The 15.7kW array produces enough energy to power additional lights in the waterfront area.37 This is an example of how public art that incorporates sustainable energy technologies has the opportunity to feed power back into the electrical grid, providing a visible demonstration of sustainable energy, cheap electricity, and environmental benefits to the local community. Pozdrav Suncu is juxtaposed with another of Bašić’s installations, Morske Orgulje (2005), translated as Sea Organ. Morske Orgulje is built into the stone steps of the water front and uses the natural force of ocean waves to produce organ tones.38 Allan Giddy has explored the relationship between history and place through public art as well. Home (2012) (Figure 8.13) is perhaps one of his clearest realizations of a minimalist poetic aesthetic that explores themes of migration, identity, and history. The work features six self-contained solar powered LED light panels that create the impression of the windows of a house when lit up at night. The work, installed adjacent to a highway in a rural part of Australia, is based on a specific pre-famine Irish house. The visual trick that the work plays could only be conveyed in a very dark area, without light pollution to ruin the illusion. Not only could this work not be cited without solar power, but it also couldn’t work in the same way without the thin profile of the PV modules and integrated battery system. Environmentally minded public art as a tool for public education takes many forms and varies widely in its efficacy. The implicit goal of a number of the works discussed throughout the book, even if they are not explicitly trying to educate the public on climate issues, is to demonstrate what a sustainable future can look like. The techniques and goals of these works are distinct from work that explicitly intends to educate the public. In the last 20 years, there has been a rise in installations intended to explicitly educate the viewer about environmental issues, likely due to the growing

Sculpture and Installation 177

Figure 8.13  Allan Giddy, Home (2012). Courtesy the artist.

public sentiment that governments are failing to address ecological crises.39 This is particularly prevalent with public art installations, and these pieces rely on the idea that public space is a crucial arena for driving change. Work explicitly intended to be educational most commonly has two very broad goals, which are to raise awareness and to create change. Increasing awareness, which can be a first step towards creating change, can be both introducing new information to an audience or reframing information in order to communicate it differently. Producing concrete, meaningful change is a much harder goal to accomplish than just awareness. The type of change intended can also vary widely from personal behavioral change to systemic changes. Increasingly, the importance of artwork as a tool for cultivating particular types of skills like collaboration, empathy, systems thinking, or science literacy, which are all useful in response to the climate crisis, is being recognized as another important goal in this space. There are two communication strategies that educational public art installations often employ. The first technique, a dialectic approach, is a process that requires the work to generate a conversation and critical exchange, using debate as a learning tool. The second technique, a didactic approach, presents information in a direct way that relies on at least some level of established consensus to present information without debate. This latter technique is more common in ecological educational artworks, due in part to its ease of readability by the viewer. Dialectical works that require critical analysis or debate are inherently more difficult for the viewer to interpret and learn from. Many works don’t subscribe purely to either method, but rather some mix of the two. Dialectic approaches are much more common outside of explicitly educational art contexts. The potential impact and efficacy of both of these methods is uncertain and dependent on numerous variables.40

178  Part III The notions of a project successfully communicating information and its potential impact on the climate crisis are two separate, but related, metrics. Explicitly educational work, particularly more didactic work, is at odds with the open to interpretation stance that most contemporary artwork takes. The challenge in this space becomes making work that isn’t too didactic or purely demonstrative. This work tends to lose the ambiguity and freedom that makes art a dynamic and powerful medium for communication. On the other hand, as mentioned, it cannot be so demanding on the viewer or open ended that it fails at its educational goal. There are numerous variables at play in the work’s ability to communicate, perhaps most importantly the audience. In regards to eco-educational installation, these variables include the political leanings of the audience and the prior knowledge of the audience. A number of questions must be asked in the design stage to match the work to the real world audience. Is the audience already in agreement with the position the installation takes or are they at odds with it? Is the installation intended or required to change the viewer’s opinion, if for example they are a climate change denier, or is it only tasked with providing new information? Are they receiving new information or receiving reformatted information, i.e. through data visualizations that communicate information typically taken for granted? Does reading the installation require a certain skill set from the audience that they may not have, such as an arts education background? Even if what the artist wanted to convey has been successfully conveyed, it doesn’t necessarily mean the work is a success if that message or call to action is misaligned with the capabilities of the audience. One of the most common approaches in eco-educational installation is to visualize data or other abstractions in a more concrete or emotionally resonant way. This is exemplified in Margaret Seymour’s previously mentioned installation Solar Echo, as well as Bonita Ely’s 2010 installation Thunderbolt41 (Figure 8.14). Thunderbolt was commissioned to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Sydney Olympic Games. The piece visualizes local energy consumption in real-time through its light display. The sculpture stands 5.8 meters high with four PV modules mounted on its base. The lightning bolt shaped sculpture is made from recycled iron. The light emitted from the sculpture indicates the level of energy consumption in the area, based on a live feed of local energy data. The sculpture’s lights are green when local energy consumption is low and, as energy consumption rises, they transition to yellow and then to red, when consumption is at its peak. The thunderbolt, a common symbol for electricity and danger, is meant to convey an environmental warning that connects personal behaviors to collective action. With this work the call to action is clear—“use less electricity”—and the result is potentially immediate. The immediate feedback offered is particularly impactful as a potential motivator for the public. This feedback reinforces the immediate nature of the problem as well. Because it is so easily identifiable and connected to the local community, the warning can be read as pertaining to both the planet at large as well as local risks associated with unsustainable energy consumption. Another tactic is seen in Justin Brice Guariglia’s work. His installations draw the viewer’s attention to the climate crisis through confronting them with aphorisms displayed on large solar powered message boards that are typically seen on the side of highways. Guariglia’s use of poetic, politically charged aphorisms in public space is heavily influenced by Jenny Holzer’s work, which dates back to the 1970s. Similarly to Ely’s work, this piece uses the form of a common emergency signal to draw

Sculpture and Installation 179

Figure 8.14  Bonita Ely, Thunderbolt (2010). Photo: Snow, Holly Sydney.

180  Part III attention to ecological crisis. The We Are the Asteroid series (2018–19) displays text composed by the philosopher Timothy Morton. The text includes phrases like “WE ARE THE ASTEROID”, “DANGER: ANTHROPOCENTRISM”, “WARNING: HURRICANE HUMAN”.42 The artist purchased used signs, and in the first version covered it in gold leaf. In the other two versions, Guariglia sandblasted and applied a rust-like patina to them. The intention of this work is to start conversations around the climate crisis. For Guariglia, the issues we face in combating climate change aren’t lack of information, but lack of meaningful discussion in everyday life. Through poetry, the work wants you to think about things in a new way. The average person is oblivious to much of the science of climate change and has for decades been inundated with misinformation pushed by fossil fuel companies. This work attempts to change that dominant narrative. Guariglia is quick to point out that the poetic nature of these works keeps them from becoming too didactic, which he contrasts with a phrase like, “go home and recycle.” In Climate Signals (2018), an exhibition organized by the Climate Museum in New York City, Guariglia applied this same tactic, but with more of a social focus. In this work ten signs were placed across the 5 boroughs of New York City, each displaying the same set of text. This time the text was written by Guariglia, but informed by his earlier collaboration with Morton. The aphorisms include the phrases, “NO ICEBERGS AHEAD”, “ABOLISH COAL-ONIALISM”, “VOTE ECOLOGICALLY”, “CLIMATE CHANGE AT WORK”, and “50,000,000 CLIMATE REFUGEES”.43 At each location, the text was translated into a number of different languages that were specific to that particular community. Additionally, the museum heavily programmed the show with additional education and outreach events relating to the work. Educational programming and community outreach events built around the installations are an important aspect for Guariglia. He believes that the work should stand on its own and avoid becoming too didactic, but educational programming running in parallel to the exhibition is crucial for the work to have its intended impact. This type of setup allows him to focus more on the poetry of the work with these initiatives picking up the educational slack.44 The Ask a Scientist program, a collaboration between the Climate Museum and Columbia University’s Earth Institute, was one such event. It featured an in-person scientist hanging out by the artwork to talk to people.45 For Reduce Speed Now! (2019), ten signs were installed outside of the Somerset House in London, England. Guariglia invited a number of people to contribute text, branching out beyond poetry and aphorisms to include prose and data drawn from a range of multidisciplinary collaborators. The artist wanted to provide a platform for people impacted most by the climate crisis to be heard. The majority of writers featured were Indigenous people from all over the world. Determining the success of eco-educational installations is difficult and there has not been much research done to analyze this issue.46 Those studies that have been done have brought up a number of questions around how the choice of media, level of audience participation,47 emotional tone, and geographic scope of the artwork impacts the outcomes. The change these eco-educational installations hope to create is typically either increased civic engagement and political action or more environmentally friendly personal behavioral changes. While personal behavioral change has been one of the most prominent narratives over the history of the environmental movement, particularly in 1st world countries that have a disproportionately

Sculpture and Installation 181 large carbon footprint, it must only be seen as a starting point, rather than the end point. Focusing on personal behavioral change risks reinforcing economic division around who can and can’t afford to live sustainably. It has also been used as a way to shift focus away from systemic change and conceal the true culprits of the climate emergency, like fossil fuel companies. Either way, uncritical artistic action is a poor replacement for activism. In addition to the challenges with public art as a vehicle for education, the social impacts of public art are not always positive. While public art can have many social benefits, along with urban greening and other beautification projects, it is often considered a component of damaging economic development strategies by governments and developers that drive gentrification. Urban greening can include both cleaning the environment or the creation of new areas or services. Sustainable energy art installations often fall squarely in the middle of the intersection between public art and urban greening. Gentrification is an expansive term that is used to describe a range of social, political, economic, and infrastructural impacts in both urban and rural areas. Gentrification can be driven by both governments and private interests. The form that a particular instance of gentrification takes is tied to its time period and local social, political, and economic issues. However, the common feature is reinvestment of capital leading to the displacement and economic hardship for long-time residents of that community.48 Art and environmentalism are not immune to these power dynamics, particularly around race and class. For these reasons, both public art and urban greening cannot be seen as purely providing a social good or improving the lives of everyone. Often, art is positioned as a general public good, transcending divisions, although this veneer can function as a tool for reinforcing these very divisions.49 Public art is often used for beautification, neighborhood and corporate branding, 50 and PR diversions from less palatable activities. The impacts of public art as a tool for gentrification include cultural erasure and displacement of groups previously living there, which disproportionately impact poor people and people of color. These camouflaged mechanisms must be considered alongside more explicitly violent methods of systemic racism like incarceration and eviction. The artist’s role in this process is complex and good intentions alone are not enough to avoid these potential negative outcomes. Artists can occupy many positions in this process. They can be actively fighting against gentrification. They can be ignorant of their role in the process. They can be indifferent to their role in the process. They can also be intentionally complicit in this process. When artists are indifferent, they often rely on notions of the inevitability of change that have their origins in colonist narratives relating to manifest destiny and the inevitability of the disappearance of a culture.51 When artists are ignorant, indifferent, or complicit about their role in these systems, they often treat the neighborhood as a blank canvas, without a history. By contrast, artists that attempt, either successfully or unsuccessfully, to act against the process of gentrification tend to celebrate that which currently exists over the space they would become through the process of gentrification. Green gentrification is a particular type of gentrification linked to environmental improvements or services. In much the same way that public art cannot be thought of as purely a social good, environmental improvements can similarly produce negative impacts on long-time residents and exacerbate social inequalities. Like other beautification projects, urban greening can be used to brand a neighborhood, erasing

182  Part III the history and culture of its long-time residents, and displacing them as well.52 Not all environmental benefits are evenly distributed and they must be understood within a history of environmental racism. The term environmental racism describes the fact that both pollution and climate change overwhelmingly negatively impact people of color and exacerbate inequality. Some of the manifestations of environmental racism are unequal access to resources, like clean water, unequal quality of infrastructure, or exposure to dangerous infrastructure, such as thermal power plants, waste disposal, or proximity to a flood zone. The term grew out of the environmental justice movement that originated in the late 1970s, through the work of Dr. Robert Bullard, Hazel Johnson, and others. 53 Environmental justice is a movement and set of principles that state that everyone is entitled to a clean and safe environment with equity and the awareness of the history of the unequal treatment of people of color and poor people as its driving principles. 54 Historically, the mainstream environmental movement has done an inadequate job of embracing the principles of environmental justice and has failed to adequately address its intersection with issues of race or class, although they are deeply intertwined. Everyone has the right to a clean environment and it is crucial to ensure that environmental benefits can occur without exacerbating social inequalities. Better understanding of who takes part in the beautification decision making process, who is excluded from the process, who stands to benefit from the process, and what systems can be put in place to eliminate these negative impacts is needed. The same techniques and phenomena that place public art in a unique position of power can also be leveraged by marginalized communities as tactics for education and political organizing. Public art can be used to reinforce an area’s existing cultural identity or in areas that have already undergone displacement it can be used to reclaim space by pointing to its former cultural identity. 55 Torkwase Dyson’s art practice confronts the issue of environmental racism and examines its history through a careful observation of infrastructure and architecture. Her practice traverses the fields of painting, drawing, sculpture, architecture, and social practice. In her work, she often relies on the use of abstraction as a method for interrogating social constructions and power dynamics. She combines this abstraction of history and the built environment with dialogue and community building. Dyson’s work is as much about interrogating her own history and strategies as it is about engaging with external communities. She creates new spaces as a way to open up and democratize physical space and develop strategies to combat environmental racism. Dyson’s aesthetic is based on the concept of Black Compositional Thought, which she defines as: this term considers how paths, throughways, architecture, objects, and geographies are composed by Black bodies and from these formations it also considers how properties of energy, space, scale, and sound interact as networks of liberation. So Black Compositional Thought considers all of these spatial histories physically—the architecture, the plantations, the houses, the hideaway spaces, the crawl ways, the through-pathways that were made—that those things are operating and produce a kind of energy, a sound, an instance, conditions that are unmeasurable. So Black Compositional Thought argues that in all of those conditions, perception is key—perception and movement and making is key. In those conditions for Black people was a kind of compositional virtuosity—having to create these

Sculpture and Installation 183 conditions and move most of the time in this clandestine way toward liberation. And there’s a history of Black people self-liberating and that takes both things that you can measure and know, and things that you cannot. Perceptions around our physical world, but perceptions around the imagination and freedom and space, and a lot of theoretical physics that has to do with that too56 Her work draws on shapes that are relevant to Black emancipatory history; particularly, shapes that emerged out of a necessity for freedom, such as the square as a reference to the shipping crate Henry Box Brown used to escape slavery.57 Through understanding both the art-historical and political histories of abstraction, Dyson is able to use it as a mechanism for strategizing and resisting environmental racism. The idea of abstraction is deeply connected to politics, power, exploitation, and infrastructure, four core components of environmental racism. As a political tool, abstraction can be used to obscure, erase, extract, and exploit people of color in service of capitalist and racist agendas. For Dyson, artistic abstraction is a subjective language rooted in a Black experience of infrastructure. The built environment and the power structures that permeate it necessitate particular Black spatial relationships. Spatial planning, the underinvestment or lack of investment in infrastructure, is one of the primary drivers of environmental racism. Spatial planning is also a central concern in abstract drawing and this shared language enables her work to have critical force. From this perspective, artistic abstraction as a method for organizing space, in a painting for example, is a tactic for environmental justice. 58 Her work that incorporates solar power generally falls under the umbrella of social architecture, the practice of designing a space to encourage particular behaviors or interactions. In 2010, she created her first off-grid solar powered studio, at the Dorchester Projects in Chicago, in an attempt to better understand the energy consumption of her art practice. Eventually she invited other artists to work in the space as well. Dyson built a small mobile studio, Studio South Zero, in 2015. Studio South Zero expanded on themes she had previously dealt with in her work to more directly confront issues of mobility, racism and history. This studio measured 6-by-8-by-12 feet, was built from recycled materials, and included a small solar array on the roof, as well as seating for visitors. The structure was mounted on a trailer that could be pulled by a car. 59 The trailer enabled her to move around the United States, creating drawings and paintings, while acting as a venue for conversations. The PV system was used to power the media devices and computers used in conducting interviews. This mobile practice allowed her to inhabit the concept of liminality while exploring the history and geography of physical spaces in Black women’s struggles. The relationship between race, infrastructure, and resource extraction is central to Dyson’s work. Their histories are inextricably intertwined. Like the environmentally damaging resource extraction that underpins physical infrastructure, slavery and racism are also forms of exploitative resource extraction. The use of the solar panel as a clean and autonomous energy source reflects this rejection of exploitative resource extraction. In addition to the symbolic importance of using sustainable energy, its use allowed her to foster a cleaner and more welcoming space than relying further on other forms of mobile electricity production, like a noisy and smelly gas generator, would have. 60

184  Part III Her work further confronts these environmental justice challenges by fostering skills, both within herself and in collaboration with others, that act as a bulwark. Studio South Zero is a platform for enabling these activities that extend beyond just the design and construction of the infrastructure supporting her artistic practice. This connection between social justice, environmentalism, history, collaboration, and art making was exemplified as the studio became the site of other collaborative projects, including In Conditions of Fresh Water (2016–17). In Conditions of Fresh Water, a collaboration with the lawyer and environmental social scientist Danielle Purifoy, explored environmental racism in two Black communities, one in Alamance County, North Carolina and the other in Lowndes County, Alabama.61 These communities originated in the post-Civil War era and have continually struggled to get the same level of adequate infrastructure, such as clean drinking water and safe wastewater disposal, that is provided to their white neighbors. Dyson and Purifoy partnered with community organizers in those communities to document this history. Their documentation took the form of both recording oral histories and creating abstract artworks. In addition to building on the strategies outlined above, the goal of the work was to document the history and current day issues these communities were facing. Dyson and Purifoy write, “SSZ served as a Black-within-Black place, a living room where people gathered, lent a hand, asked questions, and offered their memories of everyday life and change in these communities, covering at least seven decades.”62 The work culminated in 2017 with a multimedia exhibit presenting the results of their work documenting the power dynamics and environmental racism that continues to plague these areas.63

Evolving Artistic Possibilities The changing perception of PV over the last two decades is reflected in how artists have engaged with the technology. In the early aughts, solar modules were still not necessarily recognizable by the average viewer of these artworks. Today, many more people are able to identify them and understand the role they play in combating climate change. For some artists, this change made it harder to explore the more abstract poetics of solar power. They felt that it was too heavily associated with specific meanings, like climate change, that limited the ability for open ended interpretation. Other artists embraced this change in meaning, because they appreciated that as the novelty wore off, it could be used simply as a facilitating tool, potentially even hidden from view, and didn’t necessarily need to be a focal point of the work. Some appreciated this growing awareness, because it could allow them to speak to ecological issues more directly. Even with all of these changes, many artists are still able to capture the magic and mystery of solar energy in their work and create space for wonder. Artists now have a wide range of conceptual tools at their disposal when it comes to PV. As solar power becomes an even greater part of the built environment and culture, the public’s understanding of it will necessarily continue to evolve. As this happens, the technical and conceptual possibilities for sculpture and installation will inevitably grow as well.

Notes 1 Chloe Uden, interview with Alex Nathanson on December 15, 2020. 2 Krystal Persaud, interview with Alex Nathanson on September 11, 2020.

Sculpture and Installation 185 3 Christopher Helman, “Disney Taps Solar Power With Mickey Mouse PV Project,” Forbes, February 29, 2016, https://www.forbes.com/sites/christopherhelman/2016/02/29/ disney-world-taps-solar-power-with-mickey-mouse-pv-project/#3a383b916b7d. 4 “Hello, Sunshine: See Target’s Latest Solar Installations Take Shape,” Target, April 27, 2017, https://corporate.target.com/article/2017/04/solar-power-update. 5 “Björn Schülke - Drone #2, Autonomous observing system 2002,” YouTube video, 2:08, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWn9VXYKkrw&feature=related. 6 Björn Schülke, “Björn Schülke: Luftraum #1,” YouTube video, 4:18, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZsjLAvpmTg. 7 Björn Schülke, “3 Mirror Machines, Björn Schülke 2017,” YouTube video, 0:20, https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=eq2t3dCj4Bc. 8 Björn Schülke, “Solar Magnetic Needle,” YouTube video, 2:14, https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=ReOJWtkYSJ0. 9 Daniel Imboden, “SOLAR-skulpturen,” accessed January 12, 2021, http://www.dimtech.ch/technik_kunst_solar.php. 10 Gilberto Esparza, “Perejil buscando al Sol,” accessed January 12, 2021, http://gilbertoesparza.net/portfolio/perejil-buscando-al-sol/. 11 Gilberto Esparza, interview with Alex Nathanson on April 14, 2020. 12 Prudence Gibson,” Robotany and Aesthetics,” in The Plant Contract: Art’s Return to Vegetal Life (Boston: Brill, 2018): 67-94. 13 Atsushi Nakajima and Shigeo Masukawa, “Water Production System with Peltier Element and Photovoltaic Cell,” 8th International Conference on Renewable Energy Research and Applications, ICRERA 2019, Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers Inc.(2019): 218–23, doi:10.1109/ICRERA47325.2019.8996609. 14 Joaquín Fargas, “Rabdomante,” accessed December 29, 2020, https://www.joaquinfargas.com/en/obra/rabdomante/. 15 Kim Harty, “3 (+ 1) Questions For … Spencer Finch,” Urban Glass, accessed March 14, 2020, https://urbanglass.org/glass/detail/3-1-questions-for-.-.-.-spencer-finch. 16 “Spencer Finch: Lunar,” Art Institute Chicago, accessed January 11, 2021, https://www. artic.edu/exhibitions/1507/spencer-finch-lunar 17 Eustacia Huen, “Solar-Powered Truck Distills Colors of the Sunset Into Ice Cream Cones,” Forbes, November 30, 2015, https://www.forbes.com/sites/eustaciahuen/ 2015/11/30/inside-look-at-the-ice-cream-thats-distilled-from-colors-of-sunset / #3c57820a251a. 18 These details are based on my experience working on this project. 19 Ralf Schreiber, “Works,” accessed January 12, 2021, http://www.ralfschreiber.com/ works.html. 20 La Lune: Energy Producing Art, (May 2014), accessed August 10, 2020, http://www. margaretseymour.net/images/solar/catalogue.pdf. 21 Margaret Seymour, “Solar Echo,” accessed January 12, 2021, http://www.margaretseymour.net/solar.html. 22 Jason Eppink, interview with Alex Nathanson on 12/5/2020. 23 Tate, “Anthony McCall—Line Describing a Cone | TateShots,” August 13, 2008, YouTube video, 1:52, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-HWsxPnNNY&feature=emb_title 24 Chris Meigh-Andrews, “Renewables,” accessed March 15, 2020, http://www.meigh-andrews.com/renewables. 25 Chris Meigh-Andrews, interview with Alex Nathanson on 3/20/20. 26 Chris Meigh-Andrews, “Digital Moving Image Installations and Renewable Energy: 1994-2018”, in Earnshaw R.A. Liggett S. Excell P.S. and Thalmann D (eds), Technology, Design and the Arts—Challenges and Opportunities, (Cham: Springer Open, 2020), 13. (Preprint provided by Meigh-Andrews). 27 Chris Meigh-Andrews, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 20, 2020. 28 Chris Meigh-Andrews, “Mothlight,” accessed March 14, 2020, http://www.meigh-andrews.com/installations/1996-2001/mothlight. 29 Meigh-Andrews, “Mothlight.” 30 Chris Meigh-Andrews, “For William Henry Fox Talbot,” accessed March 14, 2020, http://www.meigh-andrews.com/installations/2002-2005/for-william-henry-fox-talbot

186  Part III 31 Chris Meigh-Andrews, “Interwoven Motion,” accessed March 14, 2020, http://www. meigh-andrews.com/installations/2002-2005/interwoven-motion. 32 Meigh-Andrews, “Digital Moving Image Installations and Renewable Energy: 1994– 2018”, 9. 33 Meigh-Andrews, “Digital Moving Image Installations and Renewable Energy: 1994– 2018”, 9. 34 Meigh-Andrews, “Digital Moving Image Installations and Renewable Energy: 1994– 2018”, 15. 35 Chris Meigh-Andrews, interview with Alex Nathanson on March 20, 2020. 36 Meigh-Andrews, “Digital Moving Image Installations and Renewable Energy: 1994– 2018”, 16. 37 “Instalacija ‘Pozdrav Suncu’,” accessed January 10, 2021, https://web.archive.org/ web/20160304084657/http://repam.net/uploads/repam /document_translations/ doc/000/000/003/GradZadar_Pozdrav_suncu_Zadar_20110510.pdf?2011 38 Barbara Erwine, “Multisensory Design,” in Creating Sensory Spaces: The Architecture of the Invisible (New York: Taylor and Francis, 2017). 39 Carmela Cucuzzella et al. “Eco-Didacticism in Art and Architecture: Design as Means for Raising Awareness,” Cities 102, (July 2020): 102728, doi:10.1016/j.cities.2020.102728. 40 Cucuzzella et al. “Eco-Didacticism in Art and Architecture: Design as Means for Raising Awareness.” 41 “Thunderbolt,” Curating Cities: A Database of Eco Public Art, accessed January 3, 2021, http://eco-publicart.org/thunderbolt/. 42 “Justin Brice Guariglia,” Storm King Art Center, accessed May 1, 2020, https://indicators.stormking.org/justin-brice-guariglia/. 43 Emily Raboteau, “Climate Signs,” The New York Review, February 1, 2019, https:// www.nybooks.com/daily/2019/02/01/climate-signs/. 44 Justin Brice Guariglia, interview with Alex Nathanson on April 30, 2020. 45 Carolyn Kormann, “Ask a Scientist: How to Deal with a Climate-Change Skeptic,” November 17, 2018, https://www.newyorker.com/news/dispatch/ask-a-scientist-how-todeal-with-a-climate-change-skeptic 46 Meghan Robidoux and Jason F. Kovacs, “Public Art as a Tool for Environmental Outreach: Insights on the Challenges of Implementation,” The Journal of Arts Management, Law, and Society 48, no. 3 (May 2018): 159–69, doi:10.1080/10632921.2018.1450315. 47 Miriam Burke et al. “Participatory Arts and Affective Engagement with Climate Change: The Missing Link in Achieving Climate Compatible Behaviour Change?,” Global Environmental Change 49, (March 2018): 95–105, doi:10.1016/J.GLOENVCHA.2018.02.007. 48 Willie Jamaal Wright and Cameron “Khalfani” Herman, “No ‘Blank Canvas’: Public Art and Gentrification in Houston’s Third Ward,” City and Society 30, no. 1 (April 2018): 89–116, doi:10.1111/ciso.12156. 49 Janna Graham, “‘A Strong Curatorial Vision for the Neighbourhood’: Countering the Diplomatic Condition of the Arts in Urban Neighbourhoods,” Art & the Public Sphere 6, no. 1 (October 2017): 33–49, doi:10.1386/aps.6.1-2.33_1. 50 Matthew Reynolds, “A Glamorous Gentrification: Public Art and Urban Redevelopment in Hollywood, California,” Journal of Urban Design 17, no. 1 (February 2012): 101–15, doi:10.1080/13574809.2011.646246. 51 Graham, “‘A Strong Curatorial Vision for the Neighbourhood’: Countering the Diplomatic Condition of the Arts in Urban Neighbourhoods,” 33–49. 52 Jessica Ty Miller, “Is Urban Greening for Everyone? Social Inclusion and Exclusion along the Gowanus Canal,” Urban Forestry & Urban Greening 19 (September 2016): 285–94, doi:10.1016/J.UFUG.2016.03.004. 53 Robert Bullard, “Addressing Environmental Racism,” Journal of International Affairs 73, no. 1 (Fall 2019): 237–242, doi:10.2307/26872794. 54 “The Principles of Environmental Justice,” accessed May 1, 2020, https://www.nrdc.org/ sites/default/files/ej-principles.pdf. These principles were adopted by the delegates to the First National People of Color Environmental Leadership Summit, October 24-27, 1991. 55 Stephanie Anne Johnson, “Education, Art, and The Black Public Sphere,” Journal of Pan African Studies 12, no. 9 (2019): 41–58.

Sculpture and Installation 187 56 “Torkwase Dyson Talks to Hans Ulrich Obrist,” video recorded on April 3, 2020, 57:35, https://www.pacegallery.com/journal/video/torkwase-dyson-talks-hans-ulrich-obrist/. 57 “Torkwase Dyson Talks to Hans Ulrich Obrist,” video recorded on April 3, 2020, 57:35, https://www.pacegallery.com/journal/video/torkwase-dyson-talks-hans-ulrich-obrist/. 58 Torkwase Dyson, “Black Interiority: Notes on Architecture, Infrastructure, Environmental Justice, and Abstract Drawing,” Pelican Bomb, January 9, 2017, http://pelicanbomb. com/art-review/2017/black-interiority-notes-on-architecture-infrastructure-environmental-justice-and-abstract-drawing. 59 Torkwase Dyson, “Studio South Zero,” accessed August 10, 2020, https://www.torkwasedyson.com/ssz. 60 Torkwase Dyson, Mario Gooden, and Tony Bogues, “Black Spatial Matters,” Eyebeam, YouTube video, 2:11:44, https://www.youtube.com/embed/OmI8JEMu-VY. 61 Beverly Meek, “Taking on the Environmental Legacy of Racism,” March 18, 2016, https://arts.duke.edu/news/taking-environmental-legacy-racism/. 62 Torkwase Dyson and Danielle Purifoy, “In Conditions of Fresh Water,” accessed August 10, 2020, https://www.torkwasedyson.com/full-project-description. 63 Laura Pellicer and Frank Stasio, “Structural Racism On Display In New Exhibition,” WUNC, March 9, 2017, https://www.wunc.org/post/structural-racism-displaynew-exhibition#stream/0

9

Product Integrated Photovoltaics

PIPV encompasses mass produced commercial products and functional prototypes of potentially mass producible products. PIPV includes any commercial product that relies on PV elements as intrinsic parts necessary for it to function. In many cases, the PV elements are physically attached to the device’s enclosure, however this isn’t always the case. This can include both products that produce power for their own purposes and products that are intended to be used to power other devices. The most important change in the PIPV landscape is simply the sheer number of products now available. Angèle Reinders has identified 2010 as a turning point in the evolution of the aesthetic appeal of these products. Around this time, the level of integration of the cells improved and biomimicry became a prominent design methodology in this space. Designs that were inspired by nature, like tree-shaped phone chargers, deviated significantly from the products that preceded them.1 Designers are also now using a wider range of methods to address user experience and consumer education challenges. While third generation cell types are still not considered dependable enough for a building installation expected to last more than 20 years, the five year life expectancy of a consumer product makes it more suitable for this technology and it is starting to be used in high-resolution prototypes. The motivation for designing PIPV ranges widely. PIPV may enable greater energy access. It may be more convenient or cheaper than the alternative. It may provide educational value. In some cases, it can be about lowering a carbon footprint, but the perception that a small consumer device can significantly impact the climate crisis is misguided. More sustainable consumer behavior will have a negligible impact on climate change. As consumers, we cannot buy our way out of a crisis created by a small number of powerful corporations. It is important to remain skeptical about any grand claims of environmental impact from companies peddling products with integrated PV. It is also important to interrogate the impact of what is often considered to be a well-designed product and its relationship to an economy that rewards bad climate actors. Smooth black boxes, without exposed hardware to facilitate repairs, that become obsolete quickly, like an iPhone, will be bad for the environment even if there’s a solar cell attached to it.

Common PIPV Product Categories PIPV devices are commercially available in a wide range of product categories, including lighting, power supplies, outdoor recreation, furniture, audio-visual equipment, office products, toys, vehicles, wearables, and business-to-business applications.

Product Integrated Photovoltaics 189 The divisions between these groups aren’t always clean cut and there is some overlap that occurs. While some of these devices existed prior to the early 2000s, it was only in the last 20 years that they began to proliferate. The scale of these products range widely, from a few mW needed to power a sensor or watch to dozens of kW in the largest vehicles. Lighting is one of the most diverse and widely distributed product categories in PIPV. These products can include desk lamps, flashlights, bike lights, security lights, street lights, chandeliers, and garden lights. These devices generally all have batteries, which are charged during the day to power the light at a later point. Solar powered lighting is a key area for addressing energy poverty. There are a large number of products in this space designed as social good products to address this need. Some of these products, like those from Rethaka, KVA MATx, and Little Sun, have been already discussed. The main driver for these products is often to provide a light that allows children to study in the evenings. Operating PIPV lights is significantly cheaper, healthier, and cleaner than kerosene. Switching from kerosene to PV can be life changing in many impoverished and energy insecure regions. Many of the organizations distributing these lights are also focused on providing economic benefits, beyond the money saved on kerosene, to the communities they work with. The MwangaBora (2004) solar lamp, which means “good light” in Swahili, was invented by Kenyan engineer Evans Wadongo. This lamp is one of the earlier examples of a socially beneficial PV light. Wadongo grew up having to rely on kerosene lamps, which caused permanent health problems for him. The $25 lamp is constructed from upcycled metal and solar cells. USB ports can also be added to the base to charge external devices. 2 The lamps are manufactured locally, providing jobs and skills training to local youth. The lamps are distributed to women’s groups that already exist within poor communities. The crucial component of their model is that these groups already have a high level of trust and familiarity amongst the members. The women are given their first lamps for free in exchange for agreeing to pool the money that they save from kerosene to put towards a business venture. They are provided training in micro-enterprise development and assistance in starting the business.3 On the opposite end of the solar light spectrum are a number of high-end home furnishing couture designs. Marjan van Aubel’s Cyanometer (2017), created in collaboration with the company Swarovski, uses crystals to increase the efficiency of the solar cells (Figure 9.1). It is perhaps the pinnacle of luxury couture PIPV devices. Swarovski produces both crystals and high-end optical instruments, like telescopes, making them a particularly appropriate collaborator for van Aubel. The efficiency of the PV cells in this device is increased by mounting them behind a crystal that is specifically cut to focus light onto the cells. The PV crystal device is portable and can be placed in an ideal location to harvest light during the day. It can then be placed in a docking station to power a light fixture made from opals that produces a quality of light reminiscent of the sky.4 Power supplies are another notable area of this space. These devices are generally portable and primarily intended for powering small personal electronic devices. Some of these products include batteries, while others do not. These devices generally do not have many frills and are often designed with a rugged, outdoor recreation aesthetic. More refined examples include phone cases with built-in solar cells and modules that can be mounted on the interior of a window.

190  Part III

Figure 9.1  Marjan van Aubel, Cyanometer (2017). Courtesy the artist.

Product Integrated Photovoltaics 191

Figure 9.2  Electric Mondrian (2015). Courtesy Wilfried G.J.H.M. van Sark.

The Electric Mondrian (2015) is a unique multicolored LSC charger (Figure 9.2). This functional prototype was created to study the effects of different colors on device efficiency. It features an integrated battery and two USB ports. The one m 2 module incorporated blue, green, yellow, orange, and red luminescent acrylic plates. The device was 0.2% efficient and was capable of charging the integrated 6,150 mAh batteries in about 12 hours when indoors. Their research concluded that by avoiding certain colors, it could potentially operate closer to 0.95% efficiency and be capable of charging a phone in a reasonable amount of time. They estimated the retail cost of this product would be between 300–500 Euros, which is too high for commercial viability, but iterating on this design could lead to cost reductions.5 PIPV furniture commonly includes tables, chairs, and benches. These products tend to store energy for use with integrated lights, or act as charging stations for other devices. The Soft Rocker (2011), by KVM MATx, is a rocking lounge chair that encourages the user to interact with energy harvesting. The curved wooden chair resembles the shape of a horizontal teardrop. When seated in it, the user can pivot and tilt the chair by shifting their weight to align it with the sun.6 A 35 watt solar module on the top of the chair powers USB ports for users to charge devices from. At night, a light on the chair turns on. PIPV devices for office work range widely in their practicality and commercialization. PV products from earlier eras, like calculators, are still widely produced and utilized. A more recent example is Logitech’s K750 (2011) keyboard. This device has

192  Part III generally been reviewed positively and is still manufactured today. The keyboard can maintain a charge in low-light. It is also accompanied by a smartphone app that displays the battery status and how much light the PV cells are receiving.7 There is a long history of attempts at integrating PV into vehicles. The competitions and record setting by teams from universities, governments, and private industry have continued across land, air, and sea. Around the world trips are particularly notable. In 2012, the MS Tûranor PlanetSolar became the first ship to circumnavigate the globe powered solely by solar power. The luxury yacht completed the journey in 19 months.8 Four years later, in 2016, the Solar Impulse completed the first round the world flight in a solar plane. The journey began in 2015 and was completed in 17 individual legs.9 Solar car races now occur all over the world, including India, South Africa, and Chile (Figure 9.3). Most types of solar powered vehicles are still not commercially viable. Solar powered planes will likely never be used commercially beyond niche scientific and military applications. Solar boats for commuter travel and tourist excursions have grown in use and in size. The first larger scale solar powered boat in India went into service in 2017. The boat, named Aditya, is capable of carrying 75 passengers at a time and has a 20kw PV array. Similarly sized solar powered ferries are in operation in Germany and Australia as well.10 Fully solar powered cars are not likely to ever be practical, particularly in urban or wooded areas where there are many obstructions. However, a number of electric car companies are currently advertising the use of integrated PV to augment grid charging. Time will tell if these features are actually practical for any users or

Figure 9.3 Bridgestone World Solar Challenge (2019). Courtesy South Australian Tourism Commission.

Product Integrated Photovoltaics 193 just a marketing gimmick. Smaller land based solar powered vehicles, like electric bicycles,11 have also appeared, but it is still a small market. Solar powered charging stations for electric vehicles are becoming increasingly common and are the most likely scenario for fully solar powered trips, although those are not integrated into the vehicles directly. PIPV toys commonly include model vehicles and simple robotic devices. A large number of educational STEM (science technology engineering math) toys that incorporate solar power have become widely available in recent years. Sales of STEM toys have continued to grow year after year since the early 2000s and now make up a significant share of the toy market. However, there haven’t been any specific studies on the prevalence of PV in STEM toys.12 Business-to-business applications can include parking meters, trash cans, street lights, electric vehicle charging stations, sensors, and telecommunications. One prominent example of this is the Big Belly PV integrated trash can, which has a built-in trash compactor. It started being sold in 2005.13 By compacting the trash it can dramatically increase the capacity of a single can, which decreases the frequency of required pickups. These trash cans are used widely in a number of major cities in the United States.

Communication through Design The user experience (UX) of a PIPV device is a crucial component for its success. Designing PV products that work intuitively continues to be a challenging area for product designers. Managing user expectations regarding the limitations of PV technologies is also difficult. While UX is important for all products, it is particularly true with PIPV, where all sorts of variables impact both user expectations and the functionality of the device. A number of strategies have been used to communicate with the user about how solar power works and how to best use the product. The goal of this communication varies depending on the type of product. It may be to increase customer satisfaction and usability, while reducing avoidable errors. However, it may just be to increase knowledge of solar power generally, which is a much simpler task. UX research in regards to PV products is limited. This research is important for identifying the needs of users, as well as their expectations and perceptions of PIPV. It is also crucial for understanding whether the product met their expectations and if the product adequately served the purpose it was designed for. The research that has been conducted in the last 20 years has generally been focused on users in the Netherlands.14 Additional research is needed in order to make concrete claims about user experiences that could be applicable to a more diverse set of users. User identification and understanding the likely use cases for the devices remains an important component of PIPV design. Only a small number of low energy solar powered products are able to truly work effortlessly. Indoor products have an increased level of difficulty because there is little, if any, direct sunlight and it is impossible to predict the level of artificial lighting. While the solution in some cases can be to oversize the solar module or battery, this doesn’t work for all products, particularly if they have a small form factor. Thin film solar cells that work better in lower light environments are often used with these products. Even with outdoor products, the variability of weather and the sun over

194  Part III the course of a year is a new phenomenon for many consumers. The reality of the PIPV industry has often fallen short of what has been advertised. A crucial distinction in this domain is whether or not the device requires the user to change their behavior. If operating the device as intended requires the user to actively change their behavior, it is less likely that they will have a satisfying experience with it. Active behavioral change could take many forms. It could mean the user needs to operate the device differently, be more conscious of environmental conditions, or charge it at a particular time or location. By contrast, a PIPV device that is engineered to capture enough sunlight without requiring any change in user behavior potentially doesn’t even require them to be aware of the PV elements. Outdoor devices, like solar lights, can accomplish this task because of high levels of insolation. Small devices like watches and calculators are able to accomplish this as well, because they only consume minimal amounts of energy. There are many different aspects of a PV product that may need to be communicated. The simplest may just be its dependency on light or relationship to nature. More complex issues to convey would include whether it is receiving enough light, how to improve its orientation, how long it needs to be exposed to light, battery charge state, and what the product is capable of powering. If the device isn’t intuitive, a failure to adequately communicate its capabilities and limitations can lead to significant customer service issues. These issues can place an excessive burden on a company’s resources, potentially playing a factor in a business’s success or failure, as was the case with Noon Solar, which closed in part due to customer service demands. Methods for communicating are varied. These can include brief written instructions, like “direct toward light source,”15 detailed instruction manuals, educational content, charts, illustrations, and electronic or digital interfaces. One of the most common approaches is to include charts with the product that list charge or run times in particular light conditions. Others have blogs with educational content for users. Interfaces for communicating some of these parameters can take the form of indicator lights, digital displays, or a mobile app for more detailed feedback. Any successful approach is still based on understanding who the users are and what they hope to do with the product. A clear relationship between form and function can support these customer education goals. This is often done through the shape of the device and choice of color. Biomimicry is often used as well. For the most part, these interventions can communicate general concepts, but do little to increase the usability of a PIPV device. This may be fine if that is the intention and it is used in combination with other methods or the product is intuitive to operate. Little Sun’s Little Sun Original, which is one of the more well branded and recognizable PIPV products in North American and Western Europe, communicates its connection to the sun and nature through the simple use of color and shape. The shape of the yellow lamp was inspired by the Ethiopian meskel flower, which is reminiscent of the sun.16 The work of NEA Studio, founded by architectural designer Nina Edwards Anker, often communicates the properties of PV through shape and function. The studio’s work with solar power has occurred at a number of scales, from small lighting elements, to public installation, and residential structures. Anker feels that people are primarily drawn to the affective appeal of a product and that generally supersedes ethical or economic motivations for buying it. She tries to draw people in through creating relationships to the senses associated with the elements employed in her work.

Product Integrated Photovoltaics 195

Figure 9.4  Nina Edwards Anker, Latitude Lights (2017). Courtesy the artist.

With solar, that means she explores time scales, color, and the cosmos.17 Latitude Lights (2017) uses shape to communicate the fairly complex concept of the geographic variance of sunlight’s angle of incidence (Figure 9.4). The light is in the shape of two cubes intersecting one another. One serves as the base and sits level while the other is angled and has an amorphous thin film PV cell on one surface. The angle of the cube is correlated to the ideal tilt to maximize PV efficiency at a particular latitude. Edwards Anker has created various iterations of this design with a range of materials and at various scales, although the standardized version of the object is 5.3-by-5.3-by-5.3 inches. The light emanates from within the object, through either translucent materials or perforations in the surfaces. When seen as a set, with each light demonstrating a different angle for various cities around the world, the variation of solar orientations becomes clear. Communicating through the behavior of the product or the way that the user interacts with it is another approach. Devices that turn on or off in response to the environment, like many of the lighting fixtures that automatically turn on when the sun goes down, provide a visceral illustrative connection. NEA Studio’s Solar Chandelier (2018) is intended to introduce a natural rhythm into the inhabitant’s life through this type of behavior. Amorphous thin film cells and translucent seashells that light up dangle on wires from a circular mirror above them. It automatically turns on at dusk, and when fully charged runs for five hours.18 Other types of more active communication are often required when the goal is to improve the usability of the product. Krystal Persaud’s company, Grouphug, produces a Window Solar Charger (2019), which retails for $149 that is designed to be an extremely user-friendly entry point into solar technology. The 10 watt solar

196  Part III module is in a clean minimal wooden frame intended as an attractive home decor element to be incorporated into daily life. The cells are encapsulated in a clear plastic. It is easily installed via a suction cup on the interior of a window.19 The device features a yellow LED on the enclosure, which users can rely on to help position the device. The brighter the LED shines, the better the location is. This also allows the company to resolve customer service issues by asking the user if the LED is on. If it is not on, they can suggest that the user repositions it or identify if the module needs to be replaced. The level of difficulty in designing a product to be intuitive and effortless to use depends on the type of product. For a USB charger, the specific device the user will be charging is typically unknown. This can make it difficult to size the battery or advise users on how long it will take to charge their specific device. This may require more effort to meaningfully communicate with a user to improve their experience. If the product has a known and consistent load, like a light fixture, that task is simpler. There is generally little brand recognition in the solar industry. Grouphug has tried to change this, positioning themselves as a recognizable brand that can serve to funnel customers towards more sustainable lifestyles and solar products. Grouphug’s mission is to get customers emotionally invested in solar. Grouphug relies on visual design elements for additional education opportunities. The back of the module is clear, which allows users to see the electrical connections. Exposed screws make the device easy to disassemble for repairs. This aesthetic is functional, but also reinforces the brand’s commitment to sustainability. 20 A more complex communication system is found in van Aubel’s Current Table (2016) (Figure 9.5). The large table is one of her most well-known pieces. The device is a functional prototype of a high-end indoor table that generates electricity. In addition to being a beautifully designed object, the table makes use of numerous methods to communicate with users. These methods include biomimicry, LED displays, and a mobile app, which all work together to communicate a variety of parameters and relationships. 21 The surface of the table is made of orange DSSC cells with a minimal pattern inspired by the veins of leaves. The DSSC cells produce electricity through a process inspired by photosynthesis, which is reflected in the leafy aesthetic. The table legs, reminiscent of tree branches, feature integrated batteries, an LED display, USB ports, and Bluetooth radio transmitter. A mobile app retrieves data from the table through Bluetooth to provide the user with information about the power being produced and the battery status, among other data points. It presents this information to the user through visualizations and non-technical explanations. The Current Table senses the amount of light landing on its surface and provides the user with feedback through the LEDs and app about whether it is in an adequate location. 22 Even if the user is successfully able to operate the product, miscommunication related to other aspects can occur. The environmental impact of a PV product is one major area of concern for both designers and consumers. Many common design tropes, like biologically inspired designs or the use of the color green, can obscure the real environmental impact. Even the presence of PV cells themselves can be used misleadingly to imply the product is environmentally sustainable. A life cycle analysis (LCA) or similar method for identifying actual environmental impact over the life of the product must be conducted by manufacturers before assuming environmental benefit. Presently, more research is needed to truly assess the environmental impact

Product Integrated Photovoltaics 197

Figure 9.5  Marjan van Aubel, Current Table (2016). Courtesy the artist.

of PIPV and compare it to alternative products without integrated PV.23 This is particularly pressing given that one of the many challenges designers face is in decreasing the embodied energy of their products while making objects that aren’t prohibitively expensive. Ensuring that the product is repairable to extend its useful life and developing closed loop production methods are two opportunities for bringing sustainability into the design process.

Notes 1 Angèle Reinders, Designing with Photovoltaics (New York: CRC Press, 2020), 29. 2 Katie Forster, “Cheap solar lamps help villagers keep their health, and cut emissions,” The Guardian, May 5, 2015, https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2015/may/05/ solar-mwangabora-evans-wadongo-lamps-climate-change 3 “How We Work,” Sustainable Development for All, accessed November 11, 2020, https://web.archive.org/web/20191221121517/http://www.sustainabledevelopmentforall.org/works/how-we-work/. 4 Marjan van Aubel, “Cyanometer,” accessed September 20, 2020, https://marjanvanaubel.com/cyanometer/. 5 Wilfried van Sark et al. “The ‘Electric Mondrian’ as a Luminescent Solar Concentrator Demonstrator Case Study,” Solar RRL 1, no. 3–4 (April 2017): 1600015, doi:10.1002/ solr.201600015. 6 Kennedy & Violich Architecture, “Soft Rockers,” accessed July 10, 2020, http://www. kvarch.net/projects/95.

198  Part III 7 Michael S. Lasky, “Review: Logitech K750 Wireless Solar Keyboard,” March 3, 2011, https://www.wired.com/2011/03/logitech-solar-keys/. 8 Keith Barry, “World’s First Circumnavigation By Solar Powered Ship A Success,” Wired, May 4, 2012, https://www.wired.com/2012/05/worlds-first-circumnavigationby-solar-powered-ship-a-success/. 9 “Our Adventure,” Solar Impulse Foundation, accessed October 25, 2020, https:// aroundtheworld.solarimpulse.com/adventure. 10 K. Rajendran, “Indian solar ferry flies flag for cleaner, cheaper water transport,” August 13, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-india-transportation-ferry-feature-so/indiansolar-ferry-flies-flag-for-cleaner-cheaper-water-transport-idUSKCN2590PA. 11 Georgia Apostolou, Angèle Reinders, and Karst Geurs, “An Overview of Existing Experiences with Solar-Powered E-Bikes,” Energies 11, no. 8 (August 2018): 2129, doi:10.3390/en11082129. 12 Andrew B. Raupp, “The Rise Of The STEM Toy,” Forbes, May 29, 2018, https://www. forbes.com/sites/forbestechcouncil/2018/05/29/the-rise-of-the-stem-toy/#6f3c590c724a. 13 David Schaper, “Solar Compactors Make Mincemeat of Trash,” NPR, July 17, 2007, https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=12045048. 14 Angèle Reinders, Designing with Photovoltaics, 102. 15 Acopian, “Solar Radio,” 1957. 16 “Little Sun – FAQ,” Little Sun, accessed November 22, 2020, https://littlesun.com/faqs/. 17 Nina Edwards Anker, interview with Alex Nathanson on January 10, 2020. 18 NEA Studio, “Solar Chandelier,” accessed November 22, 2020, https://www.neastudio. com/solar-chandelier. 19 Grouphug, “Window Solar Charger,” accessed September 20, 2020, https://grouphugtech.com/collections/shop/products/window-solar-charger. 20 Krystal Persaud, interview with Alex Nathanson on September 11, 2020. 21 An earlier iteration of the Current Table from 2014 did not include the mobile app. 22 Angèle Reinders, Designing with Photovoltaics, 13-26. 23 Angèle Reinders, Designing with Photovoltaics, 97.

10 Additional Media and Future Directions

In addition to all of the work outlined thus far, there are a number of niche subjects that provide additional insight into the opportunities for artists and designers working with PV. These fields included solar powered venues, design for solar powered websites, edible PV cells, and PV printmaking. These projects exemplify both the practical applications of PV in creative contexts and the ways that artwork can expand notions of what a PV cell could be.

Solar Powered Venues Solar powered film and music venues have been around since the 1990s, but have become increasingly practical as the energy efficiency of media presentation technology has improved. These venues are often run by community-based organizations and frequently nomadic. They are focused on increasing access to media production and presentation tools. An early iteration of the solar powered cinema was the Groovy Movie Picture House, found in 1996. The venue tours around Europe.1 The Solar World Cinema is a global network of mobile solar powered cinemas, founded in the Netherlands in 2006. This network includes members in Brazil, Chile, Jamaica, United States, Croatia, Belgium, Kosovo, Western Sahara, Gambia, Nepal, Indonesia, and Australia. The network provides free film screenings and filmmaking workshops. 2 Their goal is to “democratize access to the cinema.” In addition to featuring short films produced in their workshops, their content focuses on social issues. Sunshine Socialist Cinema, a Swedish organization founded in 2012, proposes a radical relationship between sunlight and media. Their mission is “re-distributing surplus light from day to night by solar panel and projector, and screen films that generate discussion on radical leftwing topics.”3 Some of these venues attempt to use as small of a PV system as possible, while others have larger systems installed on the top of vans with many hours of reserve battery power. Solar powered sound systems have also become increasingly common since the 1990s. These music venues require less energy and are more feasible to operate than a cinema. Solar Sound System4 is a global network of mobile solar powered DJ booths started in 1999. Many of these systems take the form of DJ stations built on to bicycle trailers, while others are built into hand dollies or are small modular stages. The network includes hubs in Paris, Berlin, Lausanne, Basque Country, Marseille, Tel Aviv, and Hong Kong.

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Solar Powered Internet Aesthetics There is a growing community of practitioners interested in developing energy efficient interfaces for websites that run on small solar powered servers. For most users, the internet is very abstract and removed from the physical world. It relies on cloud-based processes that don’t appear to have any environmental impact, although this is not the case. These projects seek to reframe how users engage with the internet through developing a web design aesthetic that communicates its relationship to energy. Solar-powered web projects highlight these issues through front-end interface design and back-end processes that embrace the logics and behaviors of solar power. These works look at limitations like battery capacity and sun-hours not as a loss, but as an opportunity for creative exploration. Today we are constantly connected, tracked, and marketed to. We are bombarded by fast moving, high-resolution, data heavy media streams that are designed to be addictive. This work critiques the need for this unfettered growth, the resources it consumes, and its effect on our society. Low Tech Magazine’s solar powered server version of their website, created in 2018, is one of the preeminent examples in this space. The visual design of their website is extremely energy efficient and directly tied to the off-grid PV system that powers it. Communicating this system’s relationship with energy to the user relies on a combination of design elements and plain-text explanations. The battery percentage is indicated by a change in the background color as well as a battery icon with the numeric percentage. It also includes server stats in the page footer. These stats include server location (Barcelona), local time at the server, battery status, power usage, and uptime. It also includes a weather forecast for the next few days. In order to make the website more energy efficient, a number of design elements were utilized. Increasing the efficiency of the site relies on decreasing the amount of data that is transferred to the client. One of the notable visual changes is the image quality. Dithering is used on the images. This technique is used to dramatically decrease the size of an image, while maintaining the perception of the image. Additional tactics include using static content and default fonts. Perhaps the most radical change is embracing downtime. Ensuring that a website is accessible 100% of the time is paramount for most websites. However, this is not always actually necessary. The Low Tech Magazine system relies on a 30 watt module and 168Wh battery.5 While they could have made a larger system to ensure it was available all of the time, they wanted to move away from this need to be always connected. The website can be downloaded as a PDF for off-line access if needed. Other recent work with small-scale solar powered servers has explored these concepts further. Daniel Parnitzke’s website Pleasure in Scarcity (2020)6 allows users to opt-in to an energy-saving mode. Solar Protocol (2020),7 a collaboration between Tega Brain, Benedetta Piantella, and me is a global network of solar-powered servers. Traffic on the network is directed to whichever server is in a location with the most sunlight.

Edible PV Cells The artist Bart Vandeput, who goes by the name of Bartaku, has been exploring poetic applications of PV since 2007. He was drawn to develop work exploring energy as a response to the electronic art world’s reliance on technology that uses elements like cobalt, which are linked to violence and environmental damage.8 All of

Additional Media and Future Directions 201 his PV works explore DSSC technology, because it allows artists and citizen scientists to easily experiment with it. The Temporary PhotoElectric Digestopians (2010)9 are edible solar cells. The project explored the relationships between light, food, electrical energy, and human energy. They are presented publicly as a series of collaborative labs where participants experiment with creating PV food. The bite-sized edible PV cells are made from a number of ingredients layered in a very specific way. It includes a dark colored natural dye, often from chokeberries, that is mixed with titanium dioxide. An edible cathode and anode made from pasta with a conductive coating. Agar based gelatin serves as a replacement for the glass. A substrate of beet, chocolate, or cheese is coated in pure carbon from a beeswax candle. A strong electrolyte was also included (Figure 10.1). Participants place the PV culinary experiments on their tongues and stick them out towards a light source. The cells were extremely volatile and only produced a very small amount of energy. Sometimes they would work and sometimes they wouldn’t. If it worked, it would produce a tingling sensation and a small amount of power could be measured from it. The most power measured from one of these devices, for a brief moment, was 0.4 volts and 0.05 mA. The participants would then have the opportunity to swallow it, in essence consuming the leftover energy so the metabolic process can continue to convert it to another form of energy. The Temporary PhotoElectric Digestopians are a vehicle for poetically commenting on our relationship with energy. As with so much PV artwork, event promoters and others want to frame these experiments that generally have little practical utility as harbingers of the future and exciting new developments in sustainable technology. Vandeput wanted to critique this propensity for greenwashing and the idea of a savior technology by creating something so delicate that it would resist this mischaracterization.

Luminescent Solar Concentrator Printmaking and Painting There is a growing body of research that uses painting and printmaking techniques to produce LSC devices. LSC often uses colored fluorescent acrylic sheets. It is also possible to apply fluorescent dyes to the surface of a sheet. This technique has mostly only occurred in research contexts. One group of researchers developed a set of fluorescent paints in red, orange, yellow, green, and blue. This was designed as an educational tool to teach students about renewable energy. Students in the workshop were able to make paintings on small six-by-six inch acrylic sheets that were capable of powering a small fan.10 Another approach is to use masking techniques to create patterns. More detailed images have also been created by inkjet printing fluorescent coatings.11

Future Directions In recent years, an increasing amount of environmental catastrophes and dire scientific reports have elevated the public’s concern about climate change. Along with this concern, interest in renewable energy has reached new heights. The combination of its increasing social importance and accessibility ensures that PV will continue to be a fertile ground for creative exploration and problem solving for a long time.

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Figure 10.1  Bart Vandeput, Tongue Testing/Tasting of a Temporary PhotoElectric Digestopian, Edible Alchemy Table Landscape Event, Co-created in collaboration with course leader Carole Collet and students of Future Textiles, Central Saint-Martins College, University of the Arts, London—February 2013. Photo: © by Mischa Haller 2013/Mischa Photo Ltd.

Additional Media and Future Directions 203 More and more opportunities for design will emerge as third-generation PV cells with different physical and electrical properties potentially move out of the research stage and into commercialization in the future. This will eventually make them more accessible for the average designer. New solar powered infrastructure will also introduce new possibilities for creative professionals. For example, the invention of solar roads, which have been used in China, France, and the Netherlands,12 has inspired the artist Shala to propose solar pavement for use in basketball courts.13 For artists, the poetic communicative abilities of PV will continue to evolve as the public’s understanding changes. Allan Giddy has spoken of his hope that artists will be able to move past the novelty of solar power and focus on the content of the artwork, which improved efficiency and access encourages. He hopes that as the public becomes more familiar with alternative energy technologies like PV, the aesthetic fields that use this technology will become more accessible and less camera-clubby.14 Other artists will continue to center PV materials as the subject of their work and delve into the spectacle of energetics and PV phenomena. Technologies used in conjunction with PV will also likely become increasingly relevant and interesting spaces for artistic exploration. In 2019, the Solar Energy Industries Association, a leading solar industry group, declared the 2020s to be the Solar+ Decade. They presented a plan for solar to make up 20% of US electricity generation by 2030.15 A big part of that “+” is energy storage. As energy storage becomes more prominent and battery technology improves, it is only fitting that artists will explore these technologies. Batteries have been widely used in electronic art for a very long time, but there are interesting opportunities for deeper interrogations around the poetics of energy storage. Artists also have a long history of repurposing waste, and as PV technologies reach the end of their practical life-spans, this e-waste may become a valuable material for them. The climate crisis is in part a crisis of aesthetics, particularly perspective and scale.16 The enormity of the problem is hard to wrap one’s head around. The intricacies of interactions in and between systems are hard to grasp. The large timescales feel abstract. The solutions are technically complex. Discerning good information from bad is a difficult task for lay people, particularly because of climate denialism and corporations with bad environmental records that distort information. The many ways in which the climate crisis exacerbates other massive systemic inequalities, the scale of which may also be hard to perceive, makes understanding and addressing this crisis even harder. This book is an attempt to provide perspective and a sense of scale to the evolving field of PV creative practice. The themes and methods discussed throughout the book will undoubtedly continue to be explored by practitioners. Hopefully, artists and designers will build on these ideas and expand PV creative practice to new dimensions.

Notes 1 “Groovy Movie Picture House,” accessed December 24, 2019, http://www.groovymovie.biz/groovymovie/About_Us.html. 2 “Network,” Solar World Cinema, accessed December 24, 2019, https://www.solarcinema.org/network. 3 “About Us,” Sunshine Socialist Cinema, accessed December 24, 2019, https://sunshinesocialist.org/about/. 4 “Solar Sound Cinema,” accessed November 26, 2020, https://solarsoundsystem.org/.

204  Part III 5 “About,” Low Tech Magazine, accessed November 30, 2020, https://solar.lowtechmagazine.com/about.html. 6 “Finding Pleasure in Scarcity,” accessed November 27, 2020, http://pleasureinscarcity. danielparnitzke.de/. 7 “Solar Protocol,” accessed November 27, 2020, http://solarprotocol.net/. 8 Bart Vandeput, interview with Alex Nathanson, November 30, 2020. 9 “Temporary PhotoElectric Digestopians Lab Series,” Bartaku, accessed November 24, 2020, https://bartaku.net/temporary-photoelectric-digestopians/. 10 Alexander Renny et al., “Luminescent Solar Concentrator Paintings: Connecting Art and Energy,” Journal of Chemical Education 95, no. 7 (July 2018): 1161–66, doi:10.1021/ acs.jchemed.7b00742. 11 Jeroen ter Schiphorst et al., “Printed Luminescent Solar Concentrators: Artistic Renewable Energy.” Energy and Buildings 207, (January 2020): 109625, doi:10.1016/j. enbuild.2019.109625. 12 Mohammad A. Alim et al. “Is It Time to Embrace Building Integrated Photovoltaics? A Review with Particular Focus on Australia,” Solar Energy 188, (August 2019): 1118–33, doi:10.1016/j.solener.2019.07.002. 13 Shala, interview with Alex Nathanson, July 27, 2020. 14 Allan Giddy, interview with Alex Nathanson, January 5, 2020. 15 “The Solar+ Decade: Roadmap for Building the Solar+ Economy,” Solar Energy Industry Association, accessed November 11, 24, 2020, https://www.seia.org/research-resources/ solar-decade-roadmap-building-solar-economy. 16 Anne Pasek, "Mediating Climate, Mediating Scale" Humanities 8, no. 4 (2019): 159.

Index

4 Times Square 47 6V Solar Mosaic: Refugees Welcome (Nathanson) 157, 158 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering (Experiments in Art and Technology) 62–63 Academy Mont-Cenis 46 Acopian 38, 39; user instructions 38, 194 Aditya 192 aeolian harp 129 Aerosolar #2 (Schülke) 120, 121 AeroVironment 50–51, 52, 53; see also MacCready, Paul A Field Guide to Renewable Energy Technologies (Land Art Generator) 4 Airport Panic (Bandai Electronics) 41 Akintunde, Olusola see Shala Alès Tourist Office 141 algorithmic composition 81, 118 Alpha Real 21, 52 Aluminum Company of America 36–37 Amacher, Maryanne 128 American Motors Corporation 60 ancient lights 13 Andrew, Trisha 98, 108–109 Art and Energy 157, 159 artificial intelligence 68–75, 165, 168 Asimov, Isaac 70 Astro Flight 48 AT&T see Bell Labs “Atoms for Peace” (Eisenhower) 19 Audio Ballerinas (Maubrey) 78 Bandai Electronics 40 Bangkok Art and Culture Centre 156 Barber, Daniel 37 Bartaku 200–201, 202 Bašić, Nikola 176 batteries 17, 41, 48, 50, 91; in PV systems 1, 31, 40, 51, 52, 53, 54, 66–67, 89, 105, 114, 118, 123, 149, 168, 172, 176, 189, 191, 196, 203; in cell phones 95;

batteryless systems 119–128, 150; see also power starving BEAM 68–73, 82, 119, 127, 160, 162; Robot Games 71; see also Tilden, Mark Beam Engine #1 (Schülke) 162 Becquerel, Alexandre-Edmond 16 Béjar Market (Onyx Solar) 142 Bell Labs 16, 17–18, 17, 35, 38, 61–62 Big Belly 193 BIMODE 68 biological systems 58, 73–77; see also biomimicry biomimicry 69, 77, 118, 124, 164–165, 188, 194, 196 biospheric art 65–68; see also Claus, Jürgen “Bird, Monk, Train: Three Approaches to a Solar Sounder Workshop” (Blasser) 124 Black Compositional Thought 182; see also Dyson, Torkwase Blamey, Peter 132,134 Blasser, Peter 123–127 Blow, Mike 128, 129 Bogner Jeans 100 Bori, Bálint 119–120 bots see robotics Boucher, Robert 48–50 Boucher, Roland 48–50 BP 52; see also fossil fuel, companies BP Solar 46 Brain, Teg a 200 Broken Hill Art Exchange 156 Brooks, Rodney 68 Brown, Earle 62 Brown, Janice 50, 51 building integrated photovoltaics 6, 31, 43–48, 54, 68, 137–153, 157 Bullard, Dr. Robert 182 Burrell, Andrew 169 Byproduct (Neuhaus) 61 Cage, John 6, 62, 63, 118 Cage Music (Jones) 63 Carlisle House (Solar Design Associates) 44

206  Index Carter, Jimmy 21 Castle Groenhof (Philippe Samyn and Partners) 141, 142 Cathedral of the Holy Family 151 Central Park 52, 168 chance operations 6, 118 Chapin, Daryl 17 Ciat-Lonbarde see Blasser, Peter circuit bending 118, 124–125 Citizen 40 Claus, Jürgen 65–68, 84, 157 Claus, Nora 66–67 climate change 1–6, 11, 16, 24, 92–93, 110, 153, 156, 157, 169, 174, 175, 177, 181, 182, 184, 188, 203; communication 1, 177–181; denialism 24, 178, 180; impact on architecture 141; impact on art 4–5, 68; impact on fashion industry 90, 93 climate crisis see climate change climate emergency see climate change The Climate Museum 180 Climate Signals (Guariglia) 180 Clock (Giddy) 75–77 Clothes Line Sound (Victoria) 58, 59 Collins, Nic 127 colonialism 3, 12, 129 Colorusso, Craig 127 Columbia University Earth Institute 180 concentrated solar power 16 Conrad, Tony 171 Cook, Perry 127 Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum 46, 146 Corchero, Elana 105 Crawl (Victoria) 60 culinary art see edible, art Current Table (van Aubel) 196, 197 Current Window (van Aubel) 144–145 Cyanometer (van Aubel) 189, 190 cybernetic 73–74, 94, 160, 164–165, 166 Darts, David, 170 Day for Night Dress (Papadopoulos) 105, 106 Deep Listening (Blow) 129 Deep Listening (Oliveros) 118, 128, 129 Desert Equinox (Broken Hill Art Exchange) 156 device integrated photovoltaics 3, 42, 89 see also product integrated photovoltaics Diffus 98 Digital Responses (Victoria & Albert Museum) 173 Dorchester Projects 183 Double Partial Eclipse (Blamey) 134 Dreaming of a Major Third: The Clocktower Project (Kubisch) 80–82, 135

Drone #2 (Schülke) 161 DuPont 50 dye-sensitized solar cells 24, 144–145, 148, 151, 196, 197, 201 Dyson, Torkwase 182–184 Eames, Charles 35–37 Eames, Ray 35–37 Echoing Contacts (Schreiber) 169 Eclipse (Diffuses) 98 eco art 4, 177 “Eco-Drive” (Citizen) 40 eco-fashion 92–93, 98 edible: art 6, 168, 199, 200–201, 202; PV cells 199, 200–201, 202 Edwards Anker, Nina see NEA Studio Einstein, Albert 17 Eisenhower, Dwight D. 19 EL-8026 “Sun Man” (Sharp) 40 El Castillo 12 Electric Dress (Tanaka) 94 Electric Mondrian 191 Eliasson, Olafur 98; see also Little Sun Ely, Bonita 178, 179 embodied carbon 44 embodied energy 23–24, 44, 137, 197 energy: definition 14–15; efficiency 16, 22, 43, 48, 91, 126, 129, 141, 146, 174, 199–200; harvesting 91, 95, 107, 146, 164–165, 189, 191; policy 19–22, 96; poverty 93, 95, 98, 189; see also solar energy; transformations 14, 29, 67, 120, 160, 162, 170–171, 173; transition 1, 3, 4–5, 7, 11, 67, 110, 176; storage 15, 24, 31, 48, 203, see also batteries En Aquellos Tiempos Fotohistorias del Westside (Land Art Generator) 143 England Expects… (Giddy) 129, 130 England Expects… (Aotearoa) (Giddy) 129–130 Enterprise (Tilden) 68 environmental art 5; see also eco art environmental justice 3, 182–184 environmental racism 3, 181–184 Eppink, Jason 169–170 Erban, Christoph 149 Escape from the Devil’s Doom (Bandai Electronics) 41 Esparza, Gilberto 164–165, 166 Esperanza Peace & Justice Center 143 European Land Art Biennale 79 expanded cinema 171 Experiments in Art and Technology 61–62 Exxon 21; see also fossil fuel, companies Fairbanks, Marianne 4, 96–98, 108–109, 157 Fan Music (Neuhaus) 61

Index 207 Fargas, Joaquín 165–166, 167 fashion industry 90, 92–93 Feddersen, Jeff 127 Finch, Spencer 166–168 Fire, Ice & Steam (Meigh-Andrews) 171–172 Fire Station Houten (Philippe Samyn and Partners) 45 Fishkin, Daniel 126, 132 The Flicker (Conrad) 171 Flow (Giddy) 130 The Flute Players (Samakh) 73 Flux Factory 2, 156 Fluxus 62, 118, 119 Fontaines Solaires (Samakh) 73 Forcefield (Morales Murguía) 132 Forecast (Aluminum Company of America) 36 For William Henry Fox Talbot (MeighAndrews) 173 fossil fuel 16, 22, 24, 25, 35, 37, 48, 66, 96, 175; companies 21, 180, 181 Fox, Manfred 82 Freeman, Alan 53 Fritts, Charles 16 FTL Design Engineering 47, 146 FTL Solar 146 Fukushima 22 Fullemann, John 64 Fuller, Calvin 17 Gabriel, Ulrike 73–75 Gagić, Bojan 132 Gardens of Sharm (Jürgen Claus) 66–67 gas: rigs and pipelines 21, 37; see also fossil fuel General Motors 35, 53 gentrification 176, 181: green 3, 181–182 Giddy, Allan 75–77, 128–130, 156, 175, 176, 177, 203 Gladović, Miodrag 132 Glasmalerei Peters 148–149 Glass: in architecture 6, 44–47, 68, 141, 148–151; module encapsulation 16, 44–47, 141 glazing see glass Golden Dawn 13 Goldwell Open Air Museum 156 Gossamer Penguin (AeroVironment) 50, 51 Grass Valley elementary school 150 Grätzel, Michael 24 Green Fly (Scott Smallwood) 126 GreenPix—Zero Energy Media Wall (Simone Giostra & Partners) 151–153, 171 greenwashing 2, 3, 7n2, 80, 89, 93, 110–111, 138, 158, 201 Groovy Movie Picture House 199

Grouphug 195–196 GROW (SMIT) 139, 140 Guariglia, Justin Brice 178, 180 Hall, Sarah 148–151, 152 Hasslacher, Brosl 70 Helyer, Nigel 127 Hertz, Tine 107–108 Hinterding, Joyce 82–83, 135 Hoffman Electronics 38, 60 Holst Centre 102 Holzer, Jenny 178 Home (Allan Giddy) 176, 177 Horie, Kenichi 54 Hösel, Markus 107 The House of Dust (Alison Knowles) 62 Hours Remaining the Life of Allan Giddy (Allan Giddy) 75–77 Hrynkiw, Dave 71–72 hydro power 22, 66 IBA Soft House (Kennedy & Violich Architecture) 146 Ice Heart (Allan Giddy) 77 Imboden, Daniel 162, 164, 165 Impossible Object Number 1: Imagine (No Pollution) (Meigh-Andrews) 174 Inca 12–13 In Conditions of Fresh Water (Dyson and Purifoy) 184 Indigenous: knowledges 2–3, 14, 112–115, 130, 180 The INDIGO Group 119–120 Institute of Energy Conversion at the University of Delaware 44 International Rectifier Corporation 38, 39, 52 Interwoven Motion (Meigh-Andrews) 173–174 Invisible Residue (Peter Blamey) 132, 134 Iran 21 irregularity / homogeneity: emerging from the perturbation field (Minoru Sato) 132 JAM 96 Jansen, Klaus 149 Jaras Light Fest (Bangkok Art and Culture Centre) 156 Jewish Museum 60 Johnson, Hazel 182 Jones, Joe 62–65, 119, 160 Jordan, Scott 100 K750 (Logitech) 191–192 Kahn, Douglas 14 Kaufman-Gutierrez, Carina 2, 156 Kennedy, Sheila 146; see also Kennedy & Violich Architecture

208  Index Kennedy & Violich Architecture 95, 146; see also KVA MATx kerosene 23, 93, 98, 189 Kgatlhanye, Thato 99 Kiss + Cathcart 47 Knowles, Alison 62 Krebs, Frederik C. 107 Kubisch, Christina 77, 78, 80–82, 135 KVA MATx 95, 189, 191 Land Art Generator 4, 142–143 Langberg, Maria 107–108 Latitude Lights (Edwards Anker) 195 Lennon, John 62, 174 Leonardo 66 Licht und Schatten (Imboden) 164 life cycle analysis 93, 196 light: installation and sculpture 66, 166– 170, 176–177; in video and photography 170–171, 173 Lightune.G 132, 133 Line Describing a Cone (Anthony McCall) 171 Little Sun 98, 189; Little Sun Original 194 Logitech 191–192 Los Alamos National Laboratory 70, 72 Low Tech Magazine 200 Lucier, Alvin 64–65, 118, 124, 127 Luftraum #1 (Schülke) 161 Lumen Electronic Jewelry 105 Luminescent Solar Concentrators 145, 191, 201 luminoacoustics (Lightune.G) 132 Lunar (Finch) 167, 168 La Lune: Energy Producing Art 169 La Seine Musicale 139 Lux Gloria (Hall) 151, 152 Lux Nova (Hall) 149 MacCready, Marshall 50 MacCready, Paul 50; see also AeroVironment Maier Sports 100 Malts Mermaid (Horie) 54 Maquila Región 4 (Muñoz) 113 Marold, Patrick 119, 120, 122, 123 Marquette University 54 MASS MoCA 80 Maubrey, Benoît 77–79, 89, 128 Mayan 12 McCall, Anthony 171 McKee, Grant 69 Meigh-Andrews, Chris 171–175 Mercedes Benz 52 military 16, 38, 48, 51, 70–71, 75, 91–92, 96, 146, 192; see also United States government, Department of Defense

Mirror Machines (Schülke) 162 MIT 44 Mitrasonic (Morozov) 129 Mondrian, Piet 142, 191 Morales Murguía, Hugo 132 Morozov, Dmitry 128, 129 Morske Orgulje (Bašić) 176 Morton, Timothy 180 Mothlight (Meigh-Andrews) 172–173 Mothlight II (Meigh-Andrews) 173 MS Tûranor PlanetSolar 192 Muñoz, Amor 110, 112–115 The Music Store (Jones) 62 Musique Concrète 128 MwangaBora (Wadongo) 189 NASA 20, 35, 50, 51, 71; Apollo Lunar Module 167 Nathanson, Alex 156, 157, 158, 200 National Fabricated Products Inc. 38 National Renewable Energy Laboratory 21 Navajo Communications Corporation 21 NEA Studio 194–195 Nepro Watch 40 Neuhaus, Max 61–62 Ngwane, Reabetswe 99 Nightlight (Flux Factory) 156 Noon Solar 95–98, 194 nuclear power 19–20, 22, 35, 37 Obama, Barack 13 Off the Grid (Goldwell Open Air Museum) 156 oil 16, 37, 96; companies 21; crisis 5, 20–21; rigs and pipelines 21; see also fossil fuel O’Kane, Bob 73–75 Oliveros, Pauline 118, 128, 129 Ono, Yoko 62 On the Beach 112 O’Regan, Brian 24 The Oscillators (Hinterding) 82–83 Oto_Lab: Applied Crafts (Muñoz) 114–115 Palmer, Jane 96 Panda Green Energy Group 160 Papadopoulos, Despina 105, 106 Parnitzke, Daniel 200 Pathfinder (AeroVironment) 51 Pearson, Gerald 17 Peltier Cells 165–166 Perejil Buscando Al Sol (Esparza) 165, 166 performance 58, 61–62, 77–79, 128–129, 132–134, 153, 166 Perkins, Larry 52 Perlin, John 12, 15–16 Persaud, Krystal 158, 159, 195; see also Grouphug

Index 209 Personal Power (JAM) 96 Philippe Samyn and Partners 45, 142 photodiode 130, 131–132, 135 photoresistor 61, 84n4, 129 photovoltaic: cells 23–24; cost 11, 18, 22– 23, 25, 38, 47, 58, 62, 137; development 7, 16–23; education 3–4; efficiency 16, 18, 20, 23–24, 38; residential installation 3, 21–22, 44, 47, 52, 138–139 Photovoltaik in Verbindung Mit Glasgestaltung (Glasmalerei Peters) 149 Piantella, Benedetta 200 Planet Space Rover (Schülke) 161–162 Plasma Wave Instrument (Hinterding) 135 Pleasure in Scarcity (Parnitzke) 200 Poff, Zach 128, 130–131, 132 Pond Station (Poff) 130–131 Portable Light Project (KVA MATx) 95, 98 power 15, 29 Powerama (General Motors) 35 Power Plant (van Aubel) 145 power starving 123–128, 134 Pozdrav Suncu (Bašić) 176 Previews of Progress (General Motors) 35 Prick Bot (Schreiber) 168–169 printing: art 143, 149; circuitry 83, 102, 108, 139; photovoltaic cells 6, 139, 199, 201 product integrated photovoltaics 6, 37–43, 188–197; calculators 40; eyeglasses 105; hearing aids 105; jewelry 105; lighting 43, 188–189, 194–195; radios 18–19, 30, 35, 37–39, 41–42, 58–61, 78; toys 6, 18, 35–39, 41–42, 193; vehicles 6, 48–54, 192–193; video games 40–41; user experience 2, 4, 6, 29, 31, 38, 94–95, 104, 108, 188, 193–197; watches 38–40 Project Megawatt (Alpha Real) 21 Ptacek, Stephen 50 public art 4–6, 58–60, 67, 77–82, 156, 168–169, 173–184 Purifoy, Danielle 184 Pvilion 100, 146–148 Pyramid of the Sun 66 Quai de Valmy 179 building 138 Quiet Achiever (Tholstrup and Perkins) 52 Rabdomante (Fargas) 165–166, 167 Radius Solar Backpack (van Dongen) 109 Ragen 40 Reagan, Ronald 13, 21, 42 Reduce Speed Now! (Guariglia) 180 Regent College 149 Reinders, Angèle 40, 188 Repurpose Schoolbag (Rethaka) 98–99 Rethaka 98–99, 189

Riehl, Roger W. 40 Risø DTU National Laboratory 107–108 robotics 5, 58, 68–75, 160–166, 168–169; see also BEAM Route 666 (Lightune.G) 132 Ryan, Susan Elizabeth 91–92 Samakh, Érik 73 Samyn, Philippe 141–142; see also Philippe Samyn and Partners Sanyo 40, 138 Satchel (Noon Solar) 97 Sato, Minoru 132 Schaeffer, Pierre 128 Schneider, Andrew 110–112 Schreiber, Ralf 127, 168–169, 171 Schülke, Björn 119, 120, 121, 160–162, 163, 171 The Science of Light (Hall) 150 SCOTTeVEST 99–100 Seiko 40 selenium 16–17, 35 Seymour, Margaret 169, 178 Shala 142–143, 203 Shala’s Bronzeville Solar Pyramid (Shala) 143 Shanken, Edward 94 Sharp 40, 41 silicon: photovoltaic cells 17–18, 23–24, 38, 46, 47, 95, 100, 138, 149, 151; transistors 17, 61 Simone Giostra & Partners 151–153 Singh, Madanjeet 12–13 Small Gods (Tilden and Hrynkiw) 71–72 Smallwood, Scott 123, 126–128 Smil, Vaclav 14 SMIT 139, 140 Smith, Willoughby 16 Smithsonian Institute see Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum Soft Rocker (KVA MATx) 191 Software (Jewish Museum) 60 solar: architecture 12–13, 15; energy 14–23; see also photovoltaic; see also sun; ­thermal 13–16, 21, 35, 43–44, 62, 75, 91, 137–138, 146 Solar Ark (Sanyo) 138 Solar Audio Window Transmission (Victoria) 60–61 Solar Ballerinas (Maubrey) 77–79 Solar Bikini (Schneider) 110–112 Solar Cage Music (Jones) 63 Solar Cat (Persaud) 158, 159 Solar Challenger (AeroVironment) 50–51, 52 Solar Chandelier (NEA Studio) 195 Solar Craft I (Freeman) 53

210  Index Solar Crystal Sculpture (Claus) 67 Solar Decathlon—Techstyle Haus (Pvilion) 147 Solar Design Associates 44, 47–48 Solar Do-Nothing Machine (R. Eames and C. Eames) 35–37 Solar Drones (Marold) 120, 122, 123 Solar Ear 105 Solar Echo (Seymour) 169, 178 Solar Energy—Art Energy (J. Claus and N. Claus) 66 Solar Energy Industries Association 203 Solar Energy Research Institute 21 Solar Graffiti 170 Solar Icosahedron (J. Claus and N. Claus) 67 Solar Impulse 192 Solar Magnetic Needle (Schülke) 162, 163 Solar Mural Artwork Program (Land Art Generator) 143 Solar Music Hot House (Jones) 63 Solar One (Institute of Energy Conversion) 44 Solar Orchestra (Jones) 63 Solar Parka (van Dongen) 104 Solar Power for Artists (Nathanson) 4 Solar Projector (Eppink) 169–170 Solar Protocol (Brain, Nathanson, and Piantella) 200 Solar Shirt (van Dongen) 102, 103 solarsonics (Smallwood) 127 “Solar Sound Arts: Creating Instruments and Devices Powered by Photovoltaic Technologies” (Scott Smallwood) 126–127 solar sounder (Blasser) 124–127 Solar Sounder I (Lucier) 64–65, 124 “Solar Sound Module” (Schreiber) 127 Solar Sound System 199 Solar Splash 54 Solar Sunflowers (Solar Design Associates) 47–48 Solartex 100 SolArt Global Network (J. Claus and N. Claus) 66–67 Solar Turbine (Schülke) 162 Solar Tutu (Maubrey) 78 Solar Vintage (Corchero) 105 Solar Windbreaker (van Dongen) 104 Solarwippe (Imboden) 164, 165 Solar World Cinema 199 Solstic (Victoria) 58–60 Sony Walkman 41–42, 91 sound art 5, 6, 58–65, 77, 79–83, 118–135 State Power Investment Corporation Nei Mongol Energy Co 160 Steiner, Rudolf 75 Stonehenge 12, 58 Strava 92

Street Piece for a Clochard (Jones) 63–64 Studio South Zero (Dyson) 183–184 sun 11–14; iconography 12; worship 12; epithets 13; access and legal rights 13 “Sun Eater” (Schreiber) 127 Sunmobile (General Motors) 35 Sunrayce 53, 54 Sunraycer (General Motors and AeroVironment) 53 Sunrise (R. Boucher and R. Boucher) 48–49 Sunrise II (R. Boucher and R. Boucher) 49–50 Sunset: Central Park (Finch) 168 Sunshine Socialist Cinema 199 sustainability 6–7, 28–29, 70, 92–93, 100, 102, 175, 196–197 Swarovski 189 SwissTech Convention Center 144 Synchronar 2100 (Riehl) 40 Tanaka, Atsuko 94 Target 160 Teal Industries 40 Teal Photon (Teal Industries) 40 Techini (On the Beach) 112 Telkes, Dr. Mária 35 Tempex 100 Temporary PhotoElectric Digestopians (Bartaku) 201, 202 Terrain_01 (Gabriel) 73–74 Terrain_02 (Gabriel) 74–75 Terror House (Bandai Electronics) 41 Tesla 139 Texas Instruments 40 textiles 5, 36, 83, 89–115, 145–148; see also wearable technology thermal power plant 22, 182; see also fossil fuel Tholstrup, Hans 52–53 Thunderbolt (Ely) 178, 179 Tilden, Mark 68–72; Laws of Robotics 70 Tocante (Ciat-Lonbarde) 124–126 Tommy Hilfiger 100 Touhey, Colin 100, 147–148 Tour de Sol 52 Triumph International 112 Uden, Chloe 157; see also Art and Energy Under the Sun: An Outdoor Exhibition of Light (Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum) 46, 146 United States government: Army Signal Corps 20; Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) 48–49; Department of Defense 51, 71, 146; Department of Energy 44, 46; Forestry Service 38; solar research funding 19–21; see also NASA University of Waterloo 70

Index 211 University of Wisconsin-Madison 108 Uranus 40 urban greening 181 van Aubel, Marjan 144–145, 189, 190, 196, 197 Vandeput, Bart see Bartaku van Dongen, Pauline 93, 100–104, 109–110, 112 Vanguard 1 satellite 20, 35, 38, 47 Victoria, Ted 58–61 Victoria & Albert Museum 173 video art 6, 58, 120, 132, 151–153, 156, 161–162, 170–175 video games 40–41, 153 Violich, J. Frano 146; see also Kennedy & Violich Architecture Voltaic Systems 95–96 ::vtol:: see Morozov, Dmitry Wadden Sea Society 104 Wadongo, Evans 189

Waller, Morton 123 The Walt Disney Company 160 war see military Wavefarm 130 Wearable Solar Dress (van Dongen) 101–102 wearable technology 5–6, 28, 30, 38, 40–42, 58, 77–79, 89–115, 138, 189 We Are the Asteroid (Guariglia) 180 Weiser, Mark 91 wind 165; power 1, 67, 139,173–174; instruments 74, 120, see also aeolian harp Window, Not (dedicated to Howard Arkley) (Giddy) 77 Window Solar Charger (Grouphug) 195–196 World Solar Challenge 53, 192 Wright, Naomi 157; see also Art and Energy Yuca_tech: Energy By Hand (Muñoz) 113–114 Zwölf Klänge und ein Baum (Kubisch) 77, 78